


Not Afraid Anymore

by MelissaGT



Series: A Beautiful Tragedy [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Bitter Jedi Knight, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Grey Jedi Knight, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, LLF Comment Project, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Sith Shenanigans, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 144,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelissaGT/pseuds/MelissaGT
Summary: From slave to acolyte to Dark Lord, Darth Nox has a unique perspective on what it means to be Sith. Theron Shan is a man who has given over his life in service to the Republic, using work to try and cope with abandonment issues gained from being hurt too many times by those who were supposed to love him. Andronikos Revel is a pirate who just wants things to go back to the way they'd always been between him and his Sith.While working to reconcile her responsibilities to the Dark Council and the Empire as a whole, chase down a crazed relic of a former emperor, and still maintain some level of sanity, Nox realizes that she has feelings for two men who would likely kill each other given the chance. Two men so different and yet still similar. One in love with a Sith, the other in love with a woman who happens to be Sith.This fic will run alongside the Shadow of Revan storyline and into Fallen Empire and beyond. The first few chapters do use some dialogue from the game, but after that not so much other than a few mission dialogue dumps.





	1. Small Doses

Manaan - Theron

Darth Nox. Darth Fucking-Dark-Lord-of-the-Sith Nox. All Theron could think of were her eyes. Those green gems shining out from within the depths of a low hood, sizing him up like a jungle cat sized up its prey. The way they transformed into pools of liquid fire when her emotions flared. He knew what that meant. She was a Sith, after all. They were supposed to feed on their emotions, at least that's what Master Zho had told him. Hell, she had a giant red force-swallowing monstrosity thing from the depths of who-knows-what-hell following her around everywhere, towering over her as if daring anybody to take a step too close to his master. What kind of Dark tricks did she pull to gain the loyalty of _that_ thing? He should know better. She was bad news. What the hell had he gotten himself into? He was a damned idiot, that's what he was. But what choice did he have? He needed help figuring out this whole Revan thing, and Lana trusted her. Then again, that wasn't saying much. An SIS agent working with two Sith…and he couldn’t stop thinking about one of them. Yay. He was _so_ fucked.

Theron paced nervously as he, Jakarro, and Lana waited in their rented suite for Nox to show up. After their escapade on Rakata Prime, they had decided to regroup back on Manaan, and the Dark Lord had sent word that her ship would be touching down shortly. He reviewed the past events in his head - Arkous and Darok were dead and oddly enough, his great great great grandfather was apparently back from the dead and was on a crazed rampage. Wonderful. He sighed openly and scrubbed a hand through his hair as he paced.

“Give it a rest, Theron. All this nervous twitching serves no purpose.”

Leave it to Lana to point out that he looked like a complete ass. She was right though. He had to get ahold of himself. He wondered what Nox would have to say when she found out that he was related to Revan…and _other_ certain people who would no doubt come up at some point. _Why do I even care?_ He was currently persona non grata with the Republic and the SIS, so it looked like he was going to be stuck with Lana for a while. But perhaps he would be lucky enough to avoid seeing one particular Sith again. _Out of sight, out of mind, right?_ One could hope. Or not.

As if on cue, Nox strode into the room with her usual predatory grace, flanked by the red giant. The giant did have a name, though he couldn’t recall what it was. Lana was already talking, so Theron had a moment to try and put his game face on. At least he'd managed to look somewhat relaxed when he had decided to lean on the conference table for support.

“The way Revan was laying waste to that place, I wasn’t sure you’d come out of it in one piece.” Theron groaned internally. He couldn’t even get a coherent thought out of his mouth without stumbling over his words. Thankfully, Jakarro and the stupid droid interjected with their usual nonsensical yammering, allowing him to rethink his train of thought. “Anyway, my point is: glad you got out of there. Any ally right now is a welcome ally.”

"If I didn't know any better, Theron, I'd think you were somewhat infatuated with me..." Nox smiled and held up her hands as if to feign innocence.

Fuck, that infuriatingly haughty voice! Ugh, it drove him mad...in more ways than one. Ever since he heard those first words over the holo, dripping with disdain - 'Y _ou're...with the Republic.' Yup, and this Republic dog just saved your ass, sweetheart._ If only she knew the extent of what that voice did to him, and how much he hated himself for it.

"What, me? Into you? That's so... You know, don't be ridiculous." But she was already onto him – those predatory eyes missed nothing.

“If I may say, Agent Shan, you appear to be rather flush all of a sudden.” _Fuck you, droid, and thanks for stating the obvious._

The only thing he could do was make a hasty retreat and hope to maintain some of his dignity. "We're gonna-- Jakarro and I and the droid, we're leaving now so you can have your...official Imperial debrief or whatever. Lana, when you’re done, we can start picking out backwaters to go lie low in." Fuck – no such luck. Foot. In. Mouth. _Maybe I can find a nice hole to crawl into and die from shame._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Small Doses"  
> Bebe Rexha
> 
> You say "let me try you on"  
> So I let you try me on  
> That's the moment that we fell in deep  
> Oh baby, I said "just a little bit"  
> Then I got a taste of it  
> Now you got me falling at your feet
> 
> And now we're cryin' and lovin'  
> And now we're fightin' and touchin'  
> Feels like I'm making love to the enemy
> 
> I can only take you in small doses, small doses  
> Loving you, it's explosive, you know this  
> I can only take you in small doses, small doses  
> Loving you, it's explosive, you know this  
> I can only take you in small doses
> 
> I didn't mean to fall in love  
> Took one hit and I was gone  
> Gotta get my fix so I can sleep  
> Oh, baby, you're the one they warned about  
> Now I just can't do without  
> Baby, it's my appetite you feed


	2. Heathens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nox has arrived on Rishi and discovers who lured her there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to "Heathens" by Twenty One Pilots

Rishi - Theron

It was the first time Theron had actually seen her fight in person, and it was beautiful. There really was no other way to describe it. Nox performed a deadly fluid dance with a whirling saberstaff while channeling pure energy through it like it was an extension of her body. It was almost as if she could be in two places at once, attacking from the front only to appear a split second later spinning through the air to deliver a surprise blow from behind. She had become a conduit for the destructive forces of nature – the electricity in the air making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, just as the air crackles with anticipation before a lighting strike. He could see then how she had managed to climb the Sith political ladder so quickly. During their time in hiding on Rishi, Lana had told him a bit of how Nox had come to her seat on the Dark Council, rising from a mere acolyte to Dark Lord practically overnight. From what she said, it was unheard of.

While watching her gracefully spinning and flying through the air, Theron had to grudgingly admit to himself that he was a bit in awe of her at that moment. He had seen Sith fight and he had seen Jedi fight, but he had never seen either fight like this. Quickly drawn out of his own thoughts, he realized that the fight between Nox and the pirate Grumm was over before it really even got started.

He knew that the pirate didn't stand a chance. The guy was as good as dead. "A necessary sacrifice to maintain our ruse _,"_ Lana had said. Sith always seemed to have a way to rationalize throwing someone away to further their own agenda, and it had hurt that he went along with it this time. He was far from innocent himself, but he carried that weight with him while Lana didn't even seem fazed by it. As Nox whirled in for the finishing blow, she stopped suddenly. He couldn't hear the entire exchange, but as she sheathed her saberstaff and turned away from the pirate, he heard her say to the young Togruta at her side something about him having learned his lesson. What in the actual fuck? A Sith showing restraint? A _Dark Lord_ no less? That caught him off guard since it was so much easier to automatically expect the worst from his enemy. None of the Sith he'd dealt with in the past had ever given him any reason to think otherwise. 

As she approached Lana, he was given a sharp reminder of that particular way her hips swayed while she walked. It was close to a stalking swagger, the confidence rolling off of her in waves. _Pretty cliché at this point to compare her to a jungle cat, but if the shoe fits, right?_ And those robes, if you could call them as much - the entire midsection was missing, exposing a toned stomach and the curve of a perfectly shaped torso. Nope, there was nothing subtle about that at all; she really was a predator. There wasn't a move that woman made that wasn’t deliberate with purpose.  

Lana was the first to greet her and he was amazed at how much deference the Sith showed to her superior. "Dark Lord. An honor, as ever. And how fares the Dark Council?” Laughing to himself, he half expected her to curtsy. 

"No matter the obstacles we come to face, we endure."

Nox might as well have yawned while saying it, she sounded so bored. _Yeah, endure like cockroaches._ Ok, there was a tiny part of him that felt bad for thinking that. Summoning all the confidence he could muster at the moment, Theron stepped forward and made his presence known with an attempt at levity. "You're a confident one, I'll give you that." 

"Hello, Theron."

That voice. Hearing that 'I-don't-give-a-shit-about-anyone' voice directed at him caused a pit to form in his stomach. He could almost hear the air fizzling out of his confidence balloon. So not a good way to start. "Is that a good hello or a bad one? Outside of Lana, I can never tell with you Imperial types."

His question was met with silence. All he could see peeking out from under that low hood was a lopsided smirk, one corner quirked up by a scar that disappeared up her cheek, the rest hidden by her hood. Ugh, the woman didn't even have to say anything and she was still infuriating! The worst part was that he couldn't see her eyes to help clue him in on what she wasn't saying with her grand dramatic silence. It drove him crazy knowing he had never seen her entire face. He was practically fawning over this woman and he didn't even really know what she looked like.

"Um, ok...? And moving on..." Oh, she so seemed to enjoy toying with him. _Just breathe._

As Nox followed Lana and Theron into the safe house, he stole a glance back at her and wondered who the Togruta was. The young female carried herself with an air of self-righteousness and seemed quite out of place with the Sith. “What, no red giant today?”

“You mean Khem Val? My Dashade was not happy that I left him at the ship, but I promised my apprentice that she would assist me on Rishi. I’ve been neglecting her training as of late.” She gestured towards the girl. “This is Ashara. Ashara, this is Theron.”

Theron nodded to the apprentice, but she barely looked him in the eye before scowling and looking away like she was going to catch a disease from her surroundings. “She doesn’t seem like she wants to be here,” he chuckled.

“Ashara and I have a – colorful – history together. I acquired her on Taris, where she was training as a padawan to your Jedi.” Nox looked at her apprentice and smiled, who shot her a sharp look in return. _Oh boy, well this is starting to make sense now._ “We got off to a rocky start, but over time we’ve come to an…understanding. I helped Ashara interpret the Sith Code for herself and there are several points we agree on, while there are others we do not.” She laughed and Theron’s heart skipped a couple beats from the sultry sound of it.

Attempting to regain some composure, Theron decided it was time to get down to the subject at hand. “Let’s get down to business. The Revanites are here – on Rishi. That’s why we led you here under false pretenses. They can’t know we’re on to them.” Thank goodness the Dark Lord had decided to play along with their little game up until that point. “We need you to go out there and make life hard for the Revanites’ allies – the Nova Blades.” Well, at least he was able to get those lines out. He’d practiced them in his head enough.

“If the Revanites are operating out of Rishi, then it stands to reason their leader is here.” Nox looked up at him and he could see a spark of excitement in her eye. She was on the hunt and was clearly enjoying it.

“That’s our suspicion, too, but we can’t say for sure just yet…” The conversation descended into boring technical details, and he could tell that they were losing the Dark Lord’s attention. They needed her help because he couldn’t get in there and do the dirty work himself, but they also needed her to understand the importance of keeping up her cover.  “Hate to admit it, but I haven’t been able to remotely slice the Blades’ computers. I have to have their security shut down.” That brought the glimmer back to her eyes and she threw that lopsided smirk at him. _That’s right, *I* need your help._

“The trouble is, we can’t have any suspicion raised that our attack is related to the Revanites’ activities.” _Thanks, Lana._ _Yes, we need a Sith to be discreet._

“So I am meant to be some base pirate who has a 'beef' with the Nova Blades.” Oh, she did not sound enthused. She must be used to just swaggering in in all her Sithy glory and laying waste to everything. Discretion was obviously not her thing.

“Yeah, you’ve got it exactly. Bust up their operations, get their attention, make yourself look legitimate – and _then_ go for the throat.” He smiled and winked at her, knowing she’d enjoy that last part.  

Lana gave her the rest of the details and explained that she’d be working with Jakarro and C2-D4 again. Theron groaned internally remembering how the pair had a bad habit of embarrassing the crap out of him. In front of Nox. Thinking about that particular debacle made him nervous again, and he started to shift his feet and scrub a hand through his hair.

As Nox turned to leave, Lana said a quick farewell. “It really is good to see you again, Dark Lord. May the Force serve you well.”

Theron wanted to say something similar, but he was sure it would come out all jumbled. "Been hiding out a long time. It’s nice to see someone who isn’t a complete stranger. Good luck out there.” He really was happy to see her. And nervous. And…scared? Yup, definitely scared. Who the hell wouldn’t be? Sith. Dark Lord. The woman could squash him like a bug. And he was sure she had already done just that to plenty of his counterparts. And try as he might, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.  
  
After Nox walked out the door with her apprentice in tow, Lana turned to him with a chiding tone. “You really do need to get ahold of yourself around her, Theron.” She snickered as she went back to working at her console. “She won’t bite. Not much.” What. Was. That? He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or be seriously disturbed at what the Sith apparently found funny. 

“Nice to see you have a sense of humor, Lana,” he huffed, again scrubbing his hand through his hair. “I get the feeling that that woman wants to eat me alive.” What made things worse was that a part of him desperately wanted that very thing. _Let’s say it all together now – I am so fucked._


	3. I'm not an Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I found this one extremely hard to write. I took a rather trivial scene from the in-game storyline and tried to turn it into a pretty big revelation point for Theron. I also wanted to show a bit of Nox's *eccentric* personality...and how she can go from 0-60 in no time flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to "I'm Not An Angel" by Halestorm (you're going to be seeing a lot more of Lzzy Hale inspiration for Nox, heh)

Rishi - Theron

As soon as Nox contacted them from the Nova Blades’ encampment, Theron could tell something was off. “The job’s done.”

“Excellent news, but it’s only our first step.” _Well apparently Lana isn’t as intuitive as she thinks she is…or she just doesn’t care._

Even through the distorted holo image, Theron could see from the Dark Lord’s posture that she was wound like a top. Her fists were clenched at her side and her hood hung so low that all he could see was her mouth. “One of the blades mentioned a slave camp. Do you know anything about it?” The words came out in a rushed, clipped manner.

“We do. Basically anybody in Raiders Cove who doesn’t give the Nova Blades a slice of their action, or whatever, gets locked away. Some get put into hazardous labor, like mining, but most are sold as slaves to visitors from off-world. It’s a lucrative business for the blades.” He couldn’t tell where she was going with her question. The ‘pub in him wanted to assume the worst, and the worst would be for her to go all Sithy and relieve the Blades of their _assets_. In short – lots of dead slaves.

“Not anymore.” She abruptly disconnected the call, and her image faded from view. _Shit_.

He looked over at Lana and saw that she seemed perfectly fine with whatever Nox was planning on doing. _Figures. Now what the fuck are we going to do? Just let this go?_ He couldn’t work with someone who could just slaughter gaggles of innocents as a means to an end. Scrubbing both hands through his hair, he started to pace back and forth in front of the holoterminal. Part of him was hoping she’d call back, the other was growing more furious by the second. Furious at Nox. Furious at Lana. Furious at the idea of Sith in general. And most of all, furious at himself for even entertaining the idea that he might have feelings for one.

“Theron.”

Ignoring the voice, he continued to pace.

“THERON.”

“WHAT?” He stopped and turned towards Lana. She was standing by the bank of computers, watching him with an annoyed expression on her face, arms crossed over her chest.

“ _Calm down._ We don’t have time for this. There is work to do.”

He took up a defensive posture, placing one hand on his hip while the other continued to scrub nervously through his hair. “How can you be so relaxed? We sent a killer to that slave encampment, and now innocent people are going to die because of us. Their blood will be on our hands. And you don’t even care! What is it you’re always saying…oh yeah, _necessary sacrifice_? Sorry, this is going too far. I’m going after her.” Decision made, he briefly touched the blaster holstered on his hip, and then started for the door.

“Theron, STOP.”

“No, Lana. I’m going.”

“You don’t understand. You need to trust her.”

Pausing at the door, he turned his head back towards the other Sith. “I can’t let more innocent people die because of us.”

“Please, just wait. Wait for Darth Nox to return and you will see that your trust was well-placed.”

 _What the fuck does she mean? And why is she being so secretive?_ He stopped and weighed the options in his head for a few moments, finally huffing and slamming his fist into the door frame.

“If I find out that those people were killed, I’m done, Lana. I can’t do this.”

“A little trust goes a long way. Come over here and assist me while we wait. Perhaps we can catch some chatter that will clue us in on her efforts.”

Hours had gone by with Theron practically biting his fingernails in suspense before she returned. He had overheard plenty of upset noise from the Blades, but no details on exactly what had transpired. Finally, Nox appeared at the doorway flanked by the Togruta. The apprentice seemed to be exhausted, but Nox still maintained that same rigid posture he had seen on the holo.

Dropping whatever busywork he was pretending to tinker with while he waited, he paced over to the doorway and planted himself in front of her, preventing her from moving further into the room. “Please tell me you didn’t kill those people.”

“What?” The sound that came out was barely above a whisper. She looked up, allowing him to see more of her face, including those beautiful green eyes, only this time they were hemmed with a golden light, a light he took as a sign of warning. She still held her sheathed saberstaff in one hand.

Theron took a step back, not sure what to say next. He had assumed the worst, but he didn’t want to die either. He adopted a more relaxed posture, holding his hands out in front of him in a submissive manner. “Sorry, I thought…”

“Do not presume to know the mind of a Sith.” He could tell she had meant to sound threatening, but there was no weight behind the statement. She hung her saberstaff at her belt and pushed past him, finding a wall to lean on. The Togruta threw a sneer in his direction and went to stand by her Master. _Did I miss something?_

He was so confused. Putting a nervous grin on his face and scrubbing his hand through his hair, he followed Nox and took up a spot on the wall next to her. “Care to let me in on what I’m missing here? I wanted to come after you, but Lana insisted I wait for you. I...wanted to trust you…but…”

“Theron…” He’d never seen a Sith slouch before, but if a Sith could slouch, Nox was definitely doing it. She was doing her best to hide her face and look anywhere but at him. The floor was proving mighty interesting.

As if sensing that Nox was uncomfortable with the conversation, Lana called to the Togruta from across the room. “Ashara, come help me with this.” With a nod from her Master, the apprentice obeyed and left her side, leaving her in relative privacy with Theron, but not before throwing another sneer in his direction. _That girl really does not like me._

It felt like an eternity before Nox finally spoke, in such a hushed tone he had to strain to hear her. “All of them. I killed all of them.”

Theron’s heart fell, and bile started to rise in his throat. “Why? They were innocent.” _I think I’m going to be sick._

Nox froze and looked up at him, her eyes still burning. “What are you talking about?”

“The slaves. They were innocent. I told Lana that I was done if I found out they were harmed. You guys are on your own from here on out.” He let out a heavy sigh and pushed himself off the wall, making to walk away. He had no idea where he’d go, but any place other than Rishi would do. He felt ashamed at himself for ever feeling anything for a monster.

From behind him, the sound of Nox’s soft voice stopped him in his tracks. “Theron, I was a slave.” _What. The. Fuck?_

“Come again?”

“Please don’t make me say it again. I know you heard me.” She looked up at him again and this time he saw emeralds shining back at him.

Resuming his place on the wall next to her, he let out a relieved sigh. It all made sense now – she had meant the slavers. They were people, sure, but they were scum. He should have figured when he saw the Togruta with her. He couldn’t imagine an ex-padawan going along with the slaughtering of slaves, especially after Nox had told her that she still ascribed to some of the Jedi’s teachings. He had gone into the situation fearing the worst, but in the end he had found out that Nox was an even greater mystery to him than before. “So…how are you…?”

“A Dark Lord of the Sith? It _is_ a long tale and perhaps I might tell you someday. I try to keep my past where it belongs, but as you’ve already seen, sometimes that proves difficult. What _I_ would like to know is why did you not trust me?” She folded her arms across her chest and looked up at him with a hint of a crooked smile.

Theron opened his mouth to speak but stopped, finding himself at a loss for words. Nervously rubbing the back of his neck, he looked down at his feet and mumbled. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Come again?”

His eyes whipped back in her direction and he caught a full-on lopsided smirk. _She’s making fun of me._ She laughed that wonderful sultry laugh and then pushed off the wall, sauntering in the direction of where Lana and Ashara were waiting. Looking back over her shoulder at him, he caught a wink coming out from under that hood of hers, as if she knew he was thoroughly enjoying the show. His jaw might as well have hit the floor.

As Theron rushed over to rejoin the group, he met Lana’s gaze with a nod. She smiled briefly in acknowledgment, and then returned to the task at hand.

“I’d say the Nova Blades are properly distracted, wouldn’t you?” Nox was looking right at him and winked again. Groaning internally, Theron wished he could shrink into the floor at that very moment.

“That would be an understatement. Theron’s been monitoring communications; you’ve caused quite a stir.”

“Want some gratification? Here, check this out. Just recorded.” Theron pushed the button to bring up a holocall that his slicing program had automatically captured. It was a conversation of one majorly pissed off leader of the Blades demanding to speak to Revan. He was practically screeching like a spoiled child who threatened to take his toys and go home. It was actually quite comical to watch. “You really did it. You got them running scared.”

“Naturally. You were expecting some other outcome?” He would never tire of seeing that smirk. He was also never going to live down that major freak-out, but in reality, he didn’t really care. He was just relieved.

“Guess it was silly of me to question, huh?” he chuckled.

“Please let’s keep to the task at hand,” Lana interjected with a sigh. “The Nova Blades still have an impressive roster of hardened criminals at their disposal, and the Aggressor is still heavily fortified.”

Theron went on to give Nox the details on how to proceed with infiltrating the Blades’ main base of operations.

As he watched Nox and Ashara leave, the Dark Lord turned her head and snickered, “I feel like a spy already.”

Finally alone with his own thoughts, Theron had a chance to reflect on what had just transpired. Being around Nox was like being caught in a hurricane. He never knew which side of her he was going to get from one moment to the next, and she seemed to cycle through emotions as suddenly as the wind could change. He assumed it must have something to do with being Sith, but Lana was so different. That one seemed to hide her emotions, like a strong current can be hidden beneath the smooth surface of a lake. Sometimes he thought she seemed more a Jedi than Sith.

Turning his thoughts back to Nox, he ran through her holocall again in his head. No wonder why Lana hadn’t seemed concerned. She already knew. “Lana, why didn't you tell me she was a slave? That would have saved me a huge headache."

"It wasn't my place to tell."

Lana was right, of course, and he did respect her for her discretion. Besides, he felt like he was able to get closer to Nox in the end, and could start to see that there really was a person under all of her titles. She had trusted him with a clearly painful detail from her past. She had been a…wait…it had taken until then for the full impact of what she had said to settle in. His jaw tightened at the thought of a child with piercing green eyes wearing a slave collar, and the knuckles of his clenched fists turned white when he came to the realization of what those eyes most likely had seen when they got just a bit older. 


	4. Oh Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another tough one. Theron gets kidnapped and Nox goes on a Sithy rampage. Khem Val to the rescue! Revan is a douchecanoe. Nox clearly underestimates Theron's sneakiness. ;0)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rather long one, but I was listening to "Oh Lord" by In This Moment. Fits Nox's rampage quite perfectly.
> 
> Next chapter we get some fluff! Woohoo!

Rishi - Theron

Theron had been interrogated before, and typically the underlying theme had always been the same. What set this one apart, however, was the fact that he had a supposed-to-be-long-dead relative trying to weasel his way into his head. The interrogation droids had managed to fry half his implants after the first few precision zaps, so now he was on his own keeping Revan at bay.

His mind kept trying to escape the room he was locked in, and it continued to be drawn to one thing, or rather, one person. His last words to Nox before she left to investigate the Mandalorian lead were said as a half attempt to push her away. Well, who was he kidding, one couldn’t _push away_ a Sith, not unless the Sith wanted it. He had said them more as an effort to convince himself that her being away would finally allow him to think clearly, giving him a chance to rid himself of his infatuation with her, if that was what he wanted. Was it what he really wanted? His head told him _hell fucking yes_ but his heart wasn't so sure. _Damnit_.

Another zap brought his mind painfully back to the interrogation room and the table he was strapped to. Revan was getting frustrated. Theron could feel each distant attempt at invading his thoughts, but so far he had been able to ward them off. If the blast from the past had actually been there in person, he wasn’t so sure he would have been so lucky.

Turning his thoughts inward again, Theron admitted to himself that the Dark Lord was unlike any other Sith he had ever met – she was a mystery wrapped up in an enigma. How could someone go through so much pain and still retain their humanity, let alone be able to function? Sure, she was a bit…eccentric…but she still clearly had a sense of conscience, no matter how skewed it was. She had gone from one type of slavery to another, serving an Empire that condoned cruelty, genocide, and xenophobia. He just didn’t get it. He refused to pity her – he knew she didn’t need it and wouldn’t want it. But he would allow himself to be infuriated by… _OUCH!_

They had stepped up the intensity with that last one. Theron was running out of time – he had to figure out how to get out of there. Revan was getting more and more frustrated at not breaking through into his head. What he needed was a diversion. “Aw, c’mon. You have to be at least a little proud of your family legacy.”

“Perhaps just a little. But what you don’t understand, Theron, is that you don’t have anything that I require. You are nothing more than bait – a distraction meant to keep your friends busy trying to find you, rather than focusing on me. What, you think that I didn’t know that your little Sith friend arranged for you to be here? I simply wanted to see if I could break you – imagine the damage I could do with you on my side.”

Lana. He had to have been talking about Lana. Ugh, Revan was trying to fuck with him, but he was right. It made perfect sense. Before he had a chance to consider things further, he heard a rumble in the distance, followed by faint tremors. The holo image of Revan faded as the call was disconnected. Was that…an explosion?

 

Rishi – Nox

Nox spun through the air, shrouded in a field of crackling energy focused through her double-bladed saber. The blade sliced cleanly through the mid-sections of three guards, dropping them where they stood after they had run to investigate the explosion of one of the Revanite ships. Landing lightly on both feet, she pivoted and swung the blade outwards, releasing the built up charge directly into the battle droid that had accompanied the guards. The droid shook and collapsed into a smoking heap without ever having gotten a shot off.

Stepping over the bodies of the guards, Nox began to descend from the ship’s platform, flanked by the Dashade, Khem Val. At the bottom of the ramp, they were greeted by a force-using fanatic, wielding a single yellow blade. Jedi or Sith, it did not matter – he would die all the same. “Mine.” Nox paused for a split second and held out a hand, blocking her companion. The Dashade stopped and growled, acknowledging his master’s command.

The Revanite crouched in a defensive stance and held up his blade, preparing for the Dark Lord’s attack. He didn’t even see it coming. Nox rushed him and executed a spinning jump into the air, disappearing from sight. When she landed, she was behind the fanatic and landed an unguarded blow to his back. The man staggered and turned, trying to recover as he cradled his wounded arm. Opening herself to the storm, Nox began to channel a charge through her blade as she danced around his sloppy attempts to land a blow. She toyed with her prey, putting a devilish grin on her face as the charge grew in intensity. Euphoric with the energy coursing through her, Nox spun in place, whirling her blade above her head, finally bringing it down into the Revanite’s chest with the released charge. The man’s gurgling scream was abruptly cut short, and he fell to the wooden planks with a look of horror frozen on his face.

Nox continued on her way, stepping over the body without giving it a second notice. The Dashade fell in step beside her and let out an approving growl. “We will feast this day, my Master.”

“Indeed. These fools will all suffer and we will not stop until Theron is found. I will tear this place apart piece by piece if I have to. None will escape.” Nox clenched her first around her saberstaff’s hilt and scowled. “And I will not rest until I have made Revan pay.”

She and the Dashade continued to make their way down the docks, one whirling a black blade shrouded in crimson, the other pummeling his prey with an angry vibrosword. Nox was as good as her word. None escaped their wrath. She and Khem Val together were an unstoppable force. Through their bond, the Dashade could feel her rage, and the angrier she got, the stronger he became. The drawback was that she knew she couldn’t keep her feelings for Theron separate from her rage, so she had to accept that the Dashade would also know what fueled it. At this point, she really didn’t care.

After blowing up two more ships, the Revanite base was in a complete panic. The pair took advantage of the chaos, using the chance to pick off the rest of the fanatics. The last thing each of the Revanites saw was either a giant red demon bearing down, or a whirling blur followed by a flash of light. Nox reveled in the fear, while the Dashade gorged himself on it. However, there was still no sign of Theron. The Dark Lord’s rage flared, her eyes flashing a blood-red crimson.

Noticing a communications terminal, Nox decided it was time to reach out to Lana, though the idea of asking the other Sith for help now made her even angrier. She had let her possessive feelings for the agent control her actions, and she had damn near killed the woman when she had learned that Theron’s capture had been planned all along. The only thing that had stayed her hand was the grudging admission that Lana did have a point. _Now he’s in a position to do what he does_ , she had said.

 _I don’t have to like it. If he has a job to do, I’m going to be the one to make sure he gets out alive. And I will continue to make every single Revanite pay until I know that he’s safe. And if he’s not, Lana will share the same fate._ Snarling, Nox opened a channel and saw Lana’s image pop into view. “Lana, you had better have information for me.”

“I’m starting to get the hand of slicing. Theron’s influence, I suppose. Give me one second…There. A holorecord of Theron under interrogation. Coordinates are coming your way.” Clearly, the woman was still of the belief that her decision to allow for Theron’s capture was the correct one. _How Sith of her,_ she sneered to herself.

 “And Revan?”

“No indication he’s there…but no indication he isn’t, either. I wouldn’t let my guard down.”

“Lana?”

“Yes, Dark Lord?”

“If Theron doesn’t come out of this alive, I will make you suffer for it. Perhaps not today, because I need you, but rest assured that you will.”

\----------

Following the coordinates that Lana provided, Nox and Khem Val had fought their way to a large bunker built into the side of a mountain on the other side of the encampment. They eventually came across a conference room with a holoterminal situated in the middle. As Nox padded across the room, a familiar image materialized.  

“Revan.”

“I should have known the Empire would send one of its lapdogs to try and find me. You should never have bothered.”

Clenching her free hand at her side, Nox opened herself to the Force and started to channel crackling energy into her fist. “What have you done with Theron?”

“Theron Shan’s fate doesn’t matter. Neither does yours. I’m changing the fate of the galaxy itself.”

“I get you’ve lost your mind.”

“I understand how you might see it that way from your narrow point of view. I’m not waging some war with the Empire and Republic. I’m saving countless lives, and you keep getting in the way. The only upside in your being here, really, is that you get to bear witness. My plan’s too far along for you to stop it now.”

Nox had started to tune out the holo’s fanatical yammering. He was trying to delay them. She signaled to Khem Val with her eyes to start searching while she pretended to listen to the boring diatribe. _Just smile and nod._ Thankfully, Revan’s speech was cut short by the sound of blaster fire coming from a corridor on the far side of the room.

When she saw a familiar red jacket round the corner running in her direction, her body involuntarily took a sharp intake of breath, holding it. The fire that had been burning in her gut suddenly faltered and winked out, leaving…something she didn’t recognize. Relief? Of course she was relieved to see that the SIS agent was in one piece, but no, that wasn’t it. Was it…fear? She had focused so much on the anger associated with having something she regarded as hers taken from her, she hadn’t been able to feel the underlying panic at the thought that she might not see Theron again. She’d never felt anything like it before, and the feeling hit her like a wall, almost knocking the wind out of her. “Theron…” The words came out so softly, the agent couldn’t have heard her.

Reaching her, Theron stopped and bent over his knees to catch his breath. “Don’t listen to him – it’s not over yet!”

"I was so sure I'd never see you again." When he looked up at her, she could see the bruises and burn marks on his face. All of the rage that had faded upon seeing him suddenly came rushing back in full force. _Oh, Revan you will pay._  

"I almost made it out the front door when I saw you'd shown up to rescue me. I should've known you would. Don’t know how much Lana or Revan told you, but he’s lured the Imperial and Republic command fleets to Rishi.”

“Yes, I already know. Revan wants to draw them into a fight, try to take out the leadership. Deefour is already working on a way to contact Darth Marr.”

“It won’t work. Revanites embedded on both sides are gonna sabotage shields, weapons – you name it – and we can’t warn them. Revan had the Nova Blades build him a signal jammer. No communications at all up in Rishi space. It’ll be a bloodbath.”

“One call to Jakarro and no more signal jammer.”

“The Revanites have that thing protected. You send Jakarro out there and he and Deefour become part of the landscape. We need you to…” An explosion suddenly wracked the bunker, nearly knocking Nox off her feet, making her cling to the Dashade for support.

“You could have joined me, Theron. Understandably, you’re as tenacious as I ever was. Goodbye.” _That man certainly loves the sound of his own voice. I wonder why he’s so interested in Theron._

“Master, we must leave this place. Now. I will carry your little man if I must. I refuse to be trapped again and I will not leave you.” Khem snarled and started to walk towards Theron, making to pick him up.

Nox had to muffle a snorting laugh when she saw the agent take one look at Khem, realizing what the Dashade meant to do, and jump away. “No, no! I’m good…I’m ok. Thanks.”

\----------

Lana wasted no time getting down to business when Nox and Khem Val showed up with a bruised and limping Theron in tow.

“Theron, please tell me you have the intelligence on this signal jammer.”

Theron shot her a nasty narrow-eyed glare. _Heh, if looks could kill._ “Right. The intelligence I gathered in the company of several interrogation probes while being held against my will. Jammer’s on a nearby island. You’ve probably seen it. Can’t be sliced remotely, lots of Revanite zealots protecting it…the usual hopeless nightmare, basically.”

Nox stepped forward. “Let them try to stop me. Khem and I will level that place to dust fragments.” She still was not done with taking her frustrations out on the fanatics. And she still had a bone to pick with Lana, though that could wait for another day.

“Time’s running short. You know what to do. It’s what you always do: triumph.” Sighing, Lana looked from Nox to Theron, then moved off to join Jakarro and the droid, as if sensing she was an unwelcome guest at a party.

Nox took a couple steps toward Theron, and was surprised to see him regard her companion. “Hey there, Khem. Thanks for the rescue.” The Dashade merely glanced at him and growled lowly, returning to his stoic stance behind his master.

“Do be careful, Theron. I believe Khem may have taken a liking to you,” Nox snickered.

Glancing back at the red giant, Theron wrinkled his brow and screwed his face into a quizzical expression. “I’m not entirely sure that would be a good thing.” He burst out into a huffing chuckle and groaned. “Ugh, don’t make me laugh.”

In reality, Nox didn’t think Khem particularly cared about anybody besides her, but she knew that the Dashade would defend Theron as fiercely as she would herself. Thanks to the bond they shared, her mental state tended to rub off on him, and where Theron was concerned, her mental state was all over the place.  Closing the space between them, she reached out and put a hand on his arm. “I am sorry, Theron. I tried to reach you as quickly as possible. Lana had to practically hold me back from running off after you as soon as I heard you were taken.” In an attempt at solidarity, she figured she would leave out the little detail about throwing the other Sith into a wall.

Looking down at her hand on his arm, Theron backed away a step, as if he had received an electric shock from the contact. “Ah, Lana…yes. Apparently I’m on a need to know basis with her, and I guess I didn’t _need to know_ about my little impromptu recon mission.” He glanced over at the other Sith who was talking with Jakarro across the room and scowled. “It’s not like this is my first rodeo. A little trust goes a long way. But, I guess that’s what happens when you deal with Sith.” Looking back at Nox, his expression softened. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “So…why did you bring Khem with you? I thought you said that your apprentice would be assisting you on Rishi.”

Nox met his gaze with a level of fierce defiance, and judging by the look on Theron's face, he could see the anger reflected back in her eyes. “I did. But Ashara can become easily distracted. Part of her is still Jedi, and we don’t always see eye to eye. When I heard you were taken, I knew she could become a liability. Khem and I, on the other hand, are an unstoppable force when we need to be.” _What does he want me to say - that I knew Ashara would have issues with what I had planned to do, so I brought my faithful sledgehammer instead?_   She started to turn and walk away. “And just so you know, I came very close to striking Lana down when she told me what she did to you. You see, Theron, not all Sith are the same. I would have hoped you would have figured that out by now.”

 

Rishi - Theron

He was – such – an ass. Nox had left him standing there looking stunned after she stormed out of the borrowed Rishii hut. The red giant had rolled his eyes and chuckled while shaking his head before following his master out the door. _One of these days, I’ll need to find out the story behind that guy. If Nox doesn’t kill me first._

He knew he had made a mistake as soon as the words came tumbling out of his trap. Nox was not Lana. Contrary to what the Dark Lord might believe, he _had_ heard her say his name back at the crazy camp. He’d heard all of the emotions wrapped up in her voice – the panic, the relief, and the fear. That was the moment when he’d realized that the woman beneath the Sith really did care about him, and not just as a chew toy. But why had he pulled away from her touch? Dreams of that touch had invaded his sleep for many a night since their first meeting. His only excuse was that those dreams did not prepare him for the reality. He hadn’t expected to feel an actual charge between them, like he was staring down the eye of a storm. He would be ready next time. If there was a next time. _Please let there be a next time._

He would have to find a way to apologize to her.


	5. Wicked Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluffy stuff, yay! And we're finally leaving Rishi, yay! Darth Marr is very observant. Theron is an amazing gift-giver. Nox has a thing with necks - maybe she's a vampire. :O
> 
> Next chapter, a certain pirate makes an appearance!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter has been ear-marked for a re-work (plot won't change).

Rishi - Nox

 _Well that is something you don’t see every day._ Pausing at the door to the safe house in Raider’s Cove, Nox couldn’t help chuckling to herself at the irony of the scene laid out before her. The two groups of faction representatives had segregated themselves, dividing perfectly to either side of the room. Lana stood behind Darth Marr, while Theron lounged against a desk behind a woman the Dark Lord only recognized from holos – Jedi Grand Master Satele Shan. He was clearly trying his best to appear relaxed, yet was failing miserably at it.

_Shan. Hmm. Why had that not occurred to me earlier?_

Arching one brow in curiosity, she moved further into the room and stood her ground directly between the two groups, playing the role of a neutral party.

“…Then we are agreed. A truce for the time being.” Nox had a great deal of respect for Darth Marr. After she had succeeded Thanaton’s place on the Dark Council, the older Sith had taken her under his wing, despite the fact that she was one of the youngest Sith in history to have a seat. Not to mention her humble beginnings. Or perhaps it was because of those very things. He was progressive in his belief that the Empire needed to shed its old, dead weight in order to change and retain its viability. He had told her that she was the future of the Sith. He was also the one who had given her the title Darth Nox, for the only name anybody had ever known her by before that was the one she had adopted from a long dead ancestor – Lord Kallig.

“It would appear we’ve reached an accord, and without a council majority,” she quipped, hoping to diffuse some of the obvious tension flying around.

“We both know time is too short for consultations and politics.” Try as she might, she’d never been able to get her mentor to laugh – ever.

The petite Grand Master took a step forward, as if to pull Nox’s attention away from Marr. “Satele Shan, Grand Master of the Jedi Order. Your intervention allowed us to defend ourselves against the Revanite fleet. Many thousands owe their lives to your actions.” Nox’s eyes shifted briefly from the small yet imposing woman to Theron, who was conveniently looking anywhere but at her.

“And the all-encompassing rot of the Order of Revan has been excised from our fleets. Now we return to the matter of Revan himself.”

Gesturing back towards Theron, the Grand Master continued on. “My agent here has discovered that Revan’s on the fourth moon of Yavin, where he believes the last spark of the Sith Emperor resides.” At the words 'my agent,' Theron finally looked Nox in the eye, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders, as if in wonder of how she would react. 

Marr brought Nox’s attention back to the topic at hand. "Revan intends to return the Emperor from the brink of death so he may finally be destroyed."

"I take no issue with the Emperor's demise - he holds no power over us." _See old, dead weight._

“Agreed, but there’s more to it than that. The Emperor hungers. If restored, he would attempt to consume all life in the galaxy, and I am certain he would succeed. No one – not Revan, not the Jedi, not you, not me – would be able to stop him.”

"Darth Marr and I will be leading a joint strike force on Yavin Four to put an end to Revan’s plan. I hope you'll join us." Nox stole another glance in Theron’s direction, attempting to gauge what the agent was thinking.

“As do I, my friend. For the Empire. And for the galaxy.” Making his way for the door, Marr passed by Nox and paused. His hooded and masked head first swiveled in her direction, then panned towards Theron, who was making himself look busy by shuffling around a pile of datapads. After a few moments, the Dark Lord continued on his way, following the Grand Master out of the safe house and leaving the ragtag Rishi team to themselves.

“That went surprisingly well, I think.”

Falling into a chair at the conference table, Theron chuckled harshly at the droid’s comment. “Yeah, it’s nice to see the Empire and Republic can work together without stabbing each other in the back.”

"It was the right move, arranging for your capture. We've succeeded, haven't we?" Lana was clearly growing tired of having to defend her actions.

He narrowed his eyes at her, waving his arms animatedly for impact. "Unbelievable. Where's the trust? Huh? Did it go wander off someplace, or was it never there to start with?"

Taking up a spot at the head of the table, Nox leaned on one hip and crossed her arms over her chest. "With all that's going on around us, we have to trust each other. You owe Theron an apology, Lana."

“At the risk of seeming egotistical, I will not apologize for being right.” _Ugh, it’s the principle of the matter, Lana._ Well, being a Dark Lord was at least good for something.

“Do it.” Nox felt like she was chastising children fighting at a playground. She felt like she could now look at the situation more objectively, having had time to cool down from the initial heat of the moment. Any other person and she would have likely gone along with the plan, but Lana _could_ have handled things better. Theron was a professional. He should have at least been made aware of what he was walking into.

“Theron… I recognize that I betrayed your trust, and for that I am sorry.” Not much of an apology, but that was likely the best he was going to get.

“I say enough of this. We need to focus on the Revanites!” _Thank you, Jakarro. For once, you’re the adult here._

“You are I are in agreement there, Jakarro. But first, there is one thing. Lana, I think it’s time Theron and I got to know each other a little better.” Nox looked down at Lana and gave her a nod, motioning the other Sith to the door with her chin.

Taking the hint, the other Sith rose from her seat. “Yes, of course. Jakarro and I will make ready for Yavin Four.” She made her way towards the door, collecting the Wookie on her way. When her back was to Theron, she gave Nox a slight smile and nod as she passed. 

“So…about what I said yesterday…” Nox watched as Theron pushed himself up from his seat and made his way around the table towards her.

“Look Theron, it’s clear that you don’t trust me because of who, or rather what, I am." Growing anxious, she started to pace in front of him as if she were a caged predator. "I understand that you haven’t been given much reason in the past to trust the Empire. If you would truly like for me to desist in my attentions towards-"

“-I just wanted to apologize.” He let out a sigh of frustration, addressing the floor as he continued on. “And, no I don’t trust the Empire, and I don't see that ever changing. But…I do trust you.” Bringing his eyes back up, they connected with the Dark Lord’s, hers softening in response. “I ah, I got something for you.”

Her curiosity piqued, Nox watched as Theron jogged across the room, bending to pick up something behind a cabinet. When he turned, she saw that his hands held a single potted flower, deep red in color with soft petals that shot out from the center like blades. It reminded her of fireworks, and it was beautiful.

“I think I’m supposed to say something like ‘this reminded me of the way the sun reflects in your eyes’ or some other similarly cheesy line,” he chuckled, “but really, when I walked outside that hut in the Rishii village thinking about what an ass I had been to you, I saw it. I asked one of the Rishii if they could pot it for me so it wouldn’t die.”

“Theron, it is lovely. Thank you.” She looked up at him, a ghost of a smile passing over her lips. “And apology accepted.”

A trickle of doubt crossed his expression. “You don’t like it.”

“No, I…really do. It’s just quite unexpected.” The smile now reaching her eyes, Nox reached for the pot and placed it on the table next to them, then looked up at him, hesitantly moving a hand to his arm, much in the same position from the previous day. “Nobody has ever given me something so simple, yet so…wonderful.” In truth, she’d been given many things by many men – Andronikos had even given her a sword. But of all the gifts, even the sword paled in comparison. Groaning internally, Nox spared a thought for the pirate. _No, I am not going to waste time worrying about him right now._

Instead of retreating from her touch as he did before, Theron brought his other hand up, making as if to touch the fabric of her hood. Nox watched his movement with a wary eye, unsure why she was all of a sudden nervous with the idea. That hood was like a security blanket for her – it made her feel safe, hiding her whenever she wished. Without it, there would be no hiding; he’d be able to see everything. 

Seeing her flinch, Theron snapped away the hand as if it had been burned by fire. “I, I’m sorry. It’s just, I don’t even…I want to see you. Please let me see your face.” He took another step forward, closing the distance between them, though he made no move to touch her, giving her time to process his request.

Eyes cast to the floor, Nox sighed outwardly and brought her hands up, pulling the hood up and over her head, leaving the heavy fabric to fall down her back. What he had only seen the tail end of that gave her that lopsided quirk to the corner of her lip was actually a rather intricately scrolling design of scarred markings. They covered a good part of the right side of her face, running from her chin up to her forehead. Her dark red hair was pulled tightly into a neat bun so that it would fit under the hood comfortably and stay out of the way. 

Theron tentatively brought his hand up under her chin, bringing her gaze up to meet his. “Hey there, what’s with the sad face?” It was the first time they’d actually touched, skin to skin, and Nox couldn’t deny that it felt wonderful. Closing her eyes in pleasure, she caressed her hand over his, still on her chin, now gently brushing it with his thumb. “I hope you’ve figured out by now that it doesn’t matter how much of your face I see, I still think you’re beautiful. But at least now I can see _you_. There is _one_ thing though…”

“Oh?” Her eyes popped open, focusing on him with uncertainty only to find the quirk of a smile cross his lips.

“Your hair. I half expected you to be bald."

Nox rolled her eyes and giggled, thankful for his levity. He could be so adorably corny at times, and she loved how he could insert humor into almost any situation. She felt like that smile could talk her down from a mountain. “Well, you’re not so awful to look at yourself. Anyway, are we going to continue to ignore the bantha standing in the corner of the room? Your mother is the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. I didn’t make the connection until I saw you standing next to one another.”

Emboldened by the sound of her laughter, Theron shifted his hand to the back of her neck, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders as he pulled her into a light embrace, fingers idly massaging at the base of her head. He leaned back on the conference table with her in his arms, considering her statement. “I love it. She calls me _her agent_ , like its sheer coincidence we have the same name. Though it’s not like Master Satele raised me, or like we do any mother-son stuff. Just an odd way to refer to your kid, you know?”

Nox had closed her eyes as Theron talked, getting lost in the deep rumbles emanating from his chest. "Even if Satele Shan had feelings for you, she would never show them. The Jedi stifle their emotions,” she mused. He smelled of smoky leather and sweat, mixed with the sharp herbal undertones from the oils he used to meticulously care for his blasters. It was intoxicating.

“Yeah, I get you," he responded with a wistful huff. "Wait, you don’t…have a problem with any of it, do you?” 

Nox snickered up at him with a devilish grin. “Of course not. Why would I? If anything, it makes this…” she gestured between the two of them “…all the more engaging.” In fact, the Sith in her absolutely loved the idea. Awful, but true. 

Theron made a sharp exhalation from his nose, thoroughly amused by her observation. "You're not wrong there. You know, if Master Zho ever told me I'd be putting my life story out there for a Sith Lord, I'd have told him he was crazy." Nox could feel the pulse racing in his neck, betraying the excitement he was doing an amazing job of trying to hide. Curious as to how far he'd be willing to take things, especially now that she knew who he was related to, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, bringing a hand up to splay across the thin material covering his chest. She continued to test the waters, nuzzling into his neck with the tip of her nose, lips brushing at the reddening skin, the threat of her teeth causing the breath to catch in his throat. Groaning softly, Theron inclined his neck, giving her nuzzling more real estate. He slid his hands down her bared lower back, finally settling them on the slope of her bottom, pulling her up against him even more, his voice starting to waver. "I'm the enemy - at least, I will be again if we live through it all. Gotta say, though, I've enjoyed this while it's lasted."

“It has had its charm, hasn’t it." She nuzzled up to his ear, teeth lightly grazing at the sensitive skin, releasing a low moan of pleasure when she felt the resultant shiver run through his body. Further encouraged, her hand found its way under his shirt to dance over his toned abs, coming to a rest just inside the waistline of his pants above his hip. She could feel the muscles under her hands start to tighten from her touch.

“You could say that…” As if a decision had finally been made, Theron roughly grabbed at her hips, fingertips digging into the soft skin as he held her to him. With a low growl, he crushed his mouth to hers in a kiss that was a mix of passionate urgency and need, combined with a touch of lust for the forbidden. Sliding her tongue against his, Nox sighed into his mouth and worked her hand further into the waistline of his pants, very much wishing they were in a place where she could rip his belt off and explore further. Theron slid his hands to her ass and squeezed, pulling her tightly to him so that she could feel his growing excitement digging into her belly. She snickered playfully, taking his lower lip between her teeth and biting gently, soothing the mark with a brush of the tip of her tongue before moving back to his neck. As he inclined his head again for her, she felt him take a deep breath, releasing a rumbling chuckle to the ceiling "And they said if I ever kissed an Imp, I'd spontaneously implode."

She smiled, nipping sharply at his earlobe. "Maybe by the time we reach Yavin Four.”

Groaning, Theron patted the Dark Lord on the ass and sighed. “Not the most subtle hint, but yeah – we need to get going. We _will_ be picking this up where we left off.”

Nox pulled back, brushing her lips softly to his, then followed with a slow pass of the tip of her tongue. “Indeed.”

“I’ll have Jakarro plot a route to Yavin Four. Who knows – maybe if we ask nice, Revan will stop.”


	6. Waiting Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone wants to have a talk.  
> Someone else doesn't.  
> Someone else wants to use sex as deflection.  
> It works. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential trigger warning for mutually consensual, rough, slappy sex. 
> 
> "Waiting Game"  
> Banks
> 
> I'm thinking it over  
> The way you make me feel all sexy but it's causing me shame  
> I wanna lean on your shoulder  
> I wish I was in love but I don't wanna cause any pain  
> And if I'm feeling like I'm evil, we've got nothing to gain  
> What if I never even see you cause we're both on a stage  
> Don't tell me listen to your song because it isn't the same  
> I don't wanna say your love is a waiting game  
> Baby I'm thinking it over  
> What if the way we started made it something cursed from the start  
> What if it only gets colder  
> Would you still wrap me up and tell me that you think this was smart  
> Cause lately I've been scared of even thinking 'bout where we are  
> What if I never even see you cause we're both on a stage  
> Don't tell me listen to your song because it isn't the same  
> I don't wanna say your love is a waiting game  
> What if I never even see you cause we're both on a stage  
> Don't tell me listen to your song because it isn't the same  
> I don't wanna say your love is a waiting game

The _Phoenix_ \- Nox

Nox paused at the bottom of the boarding ramp to her Fury-class interceptor, the _Phoenix_ , clutching at the potted Rishii flower as if her life depended on it. Theron had given it to her, the most simple and wonderful gift she'd ever received. Theron, the man who wasn't supposed to matter, who was supposed to be just business. She could do this. _She could do this._ At least, that was what she kept telling herself as she trudged up the boarding ramp, one forced step at a time.

What was she afraid of? It was her bloody ship, after all! That one was a lie. It hadn't been _her_ ship in years. It was _their_ ship, a home away from home, and...this was just not going to go over well. It was like walking into the lion's den. Only she was supposed to be the lion. 

As she turned the corner into the crew commons area, she was greeted with her droid's eternally incessant chattering about...she really wasn't quite sure, as per usual. She passed by Toovee, giving him barely any notice, also as per usual, which never seemed to stop him from delivering random forms of inane babble and complaints about anything and everything in general. It didn't matter to the droid one bit that nobody happened to be listening. Ever.

Nox was too busy watching out for the lion. The entirely different sort of predator who lounged across the alcove of couched seating nearby, idly tapping away at a datapad without a care in the galaxy. Lying in wait, more like. 

"Hey there, hot stuff..." Andronikos chuckled, still engrossed in whatever it was he was watching. Even at rest, there wasn't any amount of space that man didn't command in his presence. He had this...way about him. It was intoxicating, and it drove her insane, in every good and bad way one could imagine. Nox knew that she may have been at the top of the food chain everywhere else, but when he was around, when they were alone together, even she could be prey. And that was saying a lot. 

" _Hey, yourself_." 

The seconds ticked by in silence, and when he finally looked up from the datapad in his hands, his eye narrowed when it came to rest on the plant clutched protectively to her chest. "What's with the weed?" 

She was angry at being called out...or perhaps a little embarrassed and self-conscious, and not to mention just a little bit guilty. She didn't want to do this with him right now. She couldn't. Not yet. "Clearly it is none of your concern," she responded, shooting him as icy a glare as she could summon. "Recall everybody to the ship and set a course for Yavin Four.” She whisked past him, more like fled...continuing on her way to her personal quarters...their personal quarters. His gaze was like a weight on her, and she paused, turning partially back. "Now." 

"Crew's already here, so we can get off this shithole of a planet whenever you want," he huffed, tossing the datapad on the nearby table. He stood up, towering over her even from a distance, his chin set with an all-too-familiar stubborn edge. 

“Now, Nik...” 

“Yes, ma’am." It was easy to picture the lewd version of a salute he most likely threw in her general direction before finally giving in. He so loved to play with fire. And on any other occasion, she would have welcomed it...more than welcomed it. The games they played, and the things he did to her, that they did to each other...just...not now. 

Alone in their quarters, Nox looked around for a good location to place the unexpected gift, finally deciding on the chest of drawers next to the bed. She placed the pot down on the black laminate surface and took a step back, unable to help the small huff of laughter that broke loose at what she saw. Everything was in its place. No clothes scattered about. A neatly made bed. And all of that made sense, because Nik had a bit of a neat streak, even by her standards. The flower stood out, both in form and color, and aside from a few pictures and the organic brown of the pirate's leather shoulder holster hanging on the back of a chair, it was a surprisingly welcome change to an otherwise rather monochromatic setting. How...ironic.  

It didn't take long before she felt the familiar, gut-shifting plunge as the ship entered hyperspace, and she closed her eyes, letting out a long, much-needed puff of breath through her cheeks. Everything in her tightly controlled world was coming loose. Her mind was racing, and she leaned over the piece of furniture, her shoulders slumping under a weight she couldn't hold in anymore. 

What was happening here? Since the day she was found wandering the streets of Kaas City and brought to Korriban, the nameless slave who would be Darth Nox had made a vow that she would never let someone have absolute control over her ever again. She admitted that in the beginning, she'd flirted with the disturbingly handsome SIS agent only as a means to off-balance him. It had worked – all too well. Nox knew how men looked at her – her body was just another weapon, a tool at her disposal she could use to control others. But now, what had started out as a game of cat and mouse, had grown into something completely different. And she felt like she was losing that control.

And what was she going to do about Nik? 

“Do you love him?”

Shot back to the present, her eyes snapped open at the sound of the pirate's gravelly voice, automatically coming to focus on the flower only inches away from her face. So, it seemed they were going to do this right now after all. She sighed, taking a deep breath, and allowed her heavy lids to slide shut once again, using the time to summon every reserve of strength she could muster. Through sheer will, all of the guilt, all of the fear...all of the uncertainty roiling around in her gut was trundled down into a tiny little ball, leaving behind a Sith who was always in control. 

"What?" She cocked her head to the side, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I said, ‘do-you-love-him?’”

Nox turned and leaned back on one hip, crossing her arms over her chest. "What are you trying to get at, Nik?" she asked, stubbornly refusing to answer his question. How could she? The answer should have been a resounding 'no', and she wanted it to be a resounding 'no', but...something felt different, and the words died away in her mouth. And yes, there was that not-so-small part of her that didn't want to hurt the man lounging against the doorway across from her. She genuinely did care about him, a lot, more than she probably should, and losing him was the last thing she wanted, as selfish as that may have seemed.

She'd landed smack in the middle of a mine field, and at some point, she was going to have to work her way through it and hope for the best. 

Reaching over and slapping the door lock on the wall, the pirate crossed his own arms and began to pace slowly in front of her. “C’mon, Sith. I know you. You've got fools bending over backwards to get under your robes on every planet we go to, and it’s always the same. It’s actually fun to watch them fall all over themselves like the dupes they are, and some we even get to play with together. But, _someone_ gave that to you..." He inclined his head, chin pointing to the potted flower behind her. "...someone you care about enough to not just throw it in the trash on your way back to the ship." He sighed, his expression faltering just enough to betray a thread of fear that disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced. "I’m not an idiot...”

 _No, she could not do this right now_. She wouldn't. That look on his face...it hit something inside of her and she just didn't know how to process it. The only option was to switch tactics and avoid at all cost.

She watched the pirate pace. Back and forth. Back and forth. This, she knew how to do.

Unfolding her arms, she slid her hands down her sides, tracing the outline of her curves until they settled on her hips. “Perhaps I just have a budding appreciation for botany," she giggled. "My business on Rishi was to be discreet.” Her gaze was unwavering, and she watched him watch her as she slipped her thumbs into the waistline of her robes, starting to peel them down ever so slowly, down over her hips, her lower abdomen...just enough to reveal the slightest hint of dark curls. He stopped his pacing, and she could see his pupil start to dilate as he watched her. The argument would be over soon enough.

“What, you think I don’t know about what you’ve been up to? You can’t keep me locked up on the ship every hour of every day. This is the perfect place for a guy like me to get some air," he laughed. "Every cantina is buzzing with juicy gossip about the mysteriously hot pirate princess that showed up out of the blue, who just so happens to use a lightsaber. Very discreet. You’ve got half of Raider’s Cove telling tall tales about how they fucked you, while the other half wants to fuck you...”

“...and you do fuck me, so what’s the problem?” Dropping the bottom of her robes to the floor, Nox stepped out of the pool of fabric at her feet and stalked towards the pirate, black leather boots still laced up above her calves. When she reached him, she circled around to his back, bringing a hand up to lightly trace a path across his broad shoulders.

He sighed, a long, ragged rent of breath fraught with hesitation. There was no doubt he could tell she was avoiding the greater issue, but even so, he reached out, placing a hand on her lower back to pass over the curve of her backside. There hadn't been a time yet where he could resist her.

Finishing her circle, Nox stopped in front of him and reached up, brushing her fingertips down the side of his neck to his chest. “Have I ever lied to you, my darling? This is no different than any other. He is a means to an end, a temporary alliance. _That is all_.” She knew that it should have been the truth, and part of her even wanted it to be the truth. But deep down, Nox realized that the only real lie was the one she was telling to herself.

“Well, just so you know, you weren’t the only one _mingling_ on this backwater. I had plenty of opportunities to blow off some steam," he laughed, squeezing her ass with one hand as he grabbed at her hip with the other.

There he was. That was her guy, the one who never had any problem with her using whatever means she deemed necessary to gain an edge.

A tug of a smile quirked at her lip, and she turned to swagger-sway away from him, letting him get an eyeful of her naked backside as she reached up and peeled the upper robe away, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Feeling his gaze practically boring a hole straight through her, she cocked her head back towards him, a single brow raised in question...or curiosity. It didn't matter. She was the prey animal flirting with something that very much wanted to swallow her whole.

"Aw, it's so adorable that you're trying to make me jealous..." Pulling at the band holding her hair in place, she winked at him, and then shook her head to the side so that it was free to tumble down her back into a mass of loose red waves. The move was very cliche, but it was tried and tested, and it always worked. 

She could almost count down the micro-seconds it took for the pirate to close on her, to push her forward and pin her roughly up against the wall. Gripping her by the neck, he pulled her head back and dug his nose into the soft skin, nuzzling right up to her ear. “ _You smell like him...,"_ he growled, his thick and heavy words washing over her like an icy downpour, hitting in all the right places from head to toe. Meant to threaten. Meant to do so much more. A shiver ran down her spine as his lips made contact, and the soft moan resonating in his throat drove every bit of skin he touched into a heightened state of awareness. "Hmm, why can't I quit you?"

He slid his hand in-between her body and the wall, snaking his way down her belly to the cleft between her thighs. His fingers quickly found what they were looking for, and she heard a self-satisfied grumble from behind as she arched her back, pushing her ass into the front of his pants. He released his grip on her neck, tracing his fingers across her shoulders, down her spine to her backside and away. There was no romance here. This was going to be fast, and hard. And sometimes, that was more than fine. Way more than fine. 

There was the metallic jingle of his belt buckle being released, followed by a grumble and a rather adorable shimmy, and then she felt him slide his pants down just enough to free himself, already hard as a rock. And she suspected it had been that way for a while now. Nik had always been the type to get off on the idea of someone else wanting what he had, no matter how much he might not have liked it. 

How he was able to keep one hand on her, stroking and teasing and driving her up the wall, while also freeing himself, was beyond her. He was a magician. That was it.

Before long, he shoved her shoulders forward with one hand, forcing her to plant both of hers on the wall for support. Brushing her hair off to the side and out of the way, the other ran down the length of her body to the round shape of her bottom, giving a bit of a squeeze...and then lifted away only to return and slap her...just hard enough. He knew exactly what he was doing. It was a good crack, with just enough force to leave a pirate-sized hand print and pretty much turn her into a useless melted puddle, left to slide down the wall and collect onto the floor. She cried out to the ceiling, grinding her ass back against him, absolutely ready for the taking. And he knew it.

"So, I fuck you, is that right?" he asked, sliding the hand from her shoulders to wrap around the back of her neck...gripping, pulling her ear up to his lips. "Is that _right_?" Another slap broke through the air and he had to practically hold her up. " _Tell me..._ "

She could feel him bumping up against her, at the ready, teasing her in the worst of ways. All she had to do was tell him and it would be over. He'd put her out of her delicious misery. Another slap, this time to the back of her thigh. Crying out again, dirty thoughts twisted and turned, invading her mind with imagery of what it would feel like to have him inside of her, to just take her, and it was almost enough to finish her off right there. He was waiting to hear her give him what he wanted, to say that she needed him to fuck her into oblivion, that he was the only one who could. It was a competition of who could hold out the longest, one they'd played out many times in many ways, and he would always win. That bastard. 

_"TELL ME!"_

Each slap was sending her closer to the floor, to the point where she really couldn't hold herself up anymore. She needed him inside of her just to stay on her feet. She started babbling, or what probably would have sounded like a babble to anybody else, somehow managing to tell him, in quite vivid detail despite the fact that she could barely breathe, just how badly she wanted him.

There was an amused bit of laughter from behind, a smug little chuckle that told her he was most definitely going to lord this win over her head later, and then he drove himself forward, burying the entirety of his length, up to the hilt, in one solid stroke. There was nothing delicate about it. From one breath to the next, he was there, and it was exactly what she'd envisioned...a blissfully fulfilled sensation she'd experienced countless times over with him. Her body had committed his to memory a long time ago. 

He had her pinned to the wall so hard her breasts were flattened against the cool metal surface. The sensation of being filled so completely, squeezing around him...the heat from the blood that had rushed to the surface where he'd slapped her, coupled with the cold metal at her front...she was right there. His fingers dug into her hips, leaving marks that were sure to be there later as they pulled her tightly to him, more than succeeding in driving him up against the furthest reaches of her insides in the best of ways. Each shallow, yet still achingly bone-deep thrust hurt, but it was that exquisite sort of pain, the kind that only served to enhance everything else to the point of overload, churning her body into a roiling lake of fire.

It would have been so easy for him to just let go. He was close, she could feel it, hear every clipped-off moan and rent of breath at her back. But she knew he would wait for her. The man had the willpower of a Jedi, though she'd never tell him that. She worried at the side of her lower lip, biting and nibbling at the flesh to a plump, swollen redness as she forced herself to the very edge. A picture formed in her mind, like a bright light at the end of a tunnel, allowing her to see every inch, feel every inch within beyond the sensation of mere skin to skin contact. It was completion. The ultimate breaking point. And the promise of white-hot release. 

Out of the hazy darkness came an almost pained growl, teeth grazing a warning over her shoulder. It was a warning she'd received before, countless times over, yet every time was new, met with a level of anticipation that made it the first time all over again. Her runaway heartbeat quickened, if that were even possible, and what little air was left died away in her lungs with the biting tickle of his teeth on her skin. She could feel the heat, growing hotter and hotter, almost unbearably so. No, it was unbearable. The end of the tunnel was right at her fingertips, just beyond reach...and then blinding pain and pressure sliced through her existence, right at the base of her neck. He was merciless, he always was...but that was what did it for her, and that was what threw her off the ledge and into the searing light. 

She hissed through her teeth, her mouth flying open around a very much unladylike string of expletives, all aimed at the man pushing her up against the bulkhead. What he could do. Where he could go. How he could get there. The best part was that she could not have cared in the least that every living being on the ship most certainly heard each and every lust-filled high point, and quite possibly some of the middle and low ones while they were at it. Neither she nor Andronikos was shy, and the rest of their motley crew was used to it.

It also happened to be just what the pirate had been waiting for.

Whether following orders or taking matters into his own hands, he was clearly more than happy to comply. Holding her in his grip, he shoved her forward once, twice, a third...rushing to meet her with such a level of ferocity that every unresolved frustration was slammed, quite literally, back to the forefront of her mind. The doubt. The fear. The denial. The lies that weren't lies. Each thrust was a threat, a promise that could very well have put them right through the wall and into a tangled pile on the other side. He was angry, taking his frustrations out on her in the only way he could because she hadn't given him any other choice. 

She was a coward.

But, such methods weren't without merit. His teeth had taken her past the brink, and now he was just driving his point home. Over and over again. A few more punishing snaps of the hip, each tipped with with its own version of a verbal onslaught, and he fell away with her, throwing his lot in right beside her as they twitched and came, one after the other, gasping for breath and barely able to stand. He was thoroughly exhausted and spent...from their previous argument, from the explosive theatrics that so often followed...from everything, and his breaths came in ragged puffs against the back of her neck as he held them still, locked together, two sets of palms placed side by side against the bulkhead for support.

It was almost poetic. But, were things better or worse, now? She wasn't so sure. 

"Is that what you wanted?" she asked. It was more like a pant, and she concentrated on slowing her heart rate as the coolness of the hull sank into the side of her cheek. 

"It's what I always want. You drive me to murder and back." She felt a caress at her shoulder blade, the touch of his lips where the skin had been broken, and then the weight of the side of his face resting against her, his slowing breaths skittering across her sweat-dampened flesh. "Sometimes I don't know whether I should love you or hate you..." He paused, lifting his face to kiss her again. "But I'll take whatever I can get. Always will." 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note - this chapter has since been re-worked from it's original state. The plot hasn't changed.


	7. Whatever it Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nox and Theron arrive on Yavin Four. Another one where I'm sorry but not sorry! Nox and Marr underestimate the sneakiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter has been ear-marked for a re-work (plot won't change)
> 
> "Whatever it Takes" - Imagine Dragons (lyrics to follow due to overall length)

Yavin Four – Theron

The Coalition leaders were grouped around a large holomap of the fourth moon of the planet Yavin. Revan was there, but nothing could be done about it until a clear strategy could be laid out. Troop movements, supply inventories, reconnaissance – the Coalition was composed of pooled resources from two warring factions and they needed to find a way to bring those factions together, with as little bloodshed as possible. Right now, however, the two sides seemed perfectly content with throwing around petty insults and rehashing old engagements, rather than making progress with the task at hand.

Theron was finding it exceedingly difficult to pay attention as Lana, Darth Marr, and the Jedi Grand Master went in circles with each other, their arguing turning to muffled noise as he tuned them out. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation of seeing Nox again. He still had a hard time believing what had happened between them only a few days prior. After dancing around each other for so long, it almost didn’t seem real. _Yes, I really did make out with a Sith Lord_ , he chuckled to himself. 

She’d had her own ship on Rishi, and he had hoped to travel with her on the Phoenix so they could spend more time together, err pick up where they left off. But, she didn’t offer so he didn’t ask. Those three days on Jakarro’s death trap had been brutal. Nox had driven him crazy with that kiss – the way she smelled, the way her hands felt tracing across his skin, the way her body felt crushed against his, and the way her lips on his neck sent shivers all the way down his spine straight to his groin. All sorts of salacious imagery started flashing through Theron’s mind, causing him to flush where he stood. Shocked back into reality, he looked around at the figures circling the holomap in embarrassment – nobody noticed? Ok, good.

Grinning sheepishly, Theron genuinely tried to listen to the ongoing conversation. Disagreement. Argument. The Grand Master wanted to send scouts to continue gathering intel, while Marr insisted they wait for Nox to arrive to advance further. It was a Sith planet after all, and a Sith would be the better choice for exploration, yada yada. They were getting nowhere. Both sides refused to make any concessions and it was getting rather tiresome.

Theron let out an impatient sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. _Yeah, so not listening._ He started to tune out the bickering, again getting lost in his own thoughts of a certain Sith, and just how crazy she made him. When they’d kissed, particularly when she’d done that little thing with her tongue, it had taken a great amount of effort to not just pick her up by the ass and have her on the table right there in the safe house. But, he had to admit that he was more than a little intimidated by her. It didn’t matter if he wanted to take her right there – if he moved too fast and she wasn’t down for it, she was liable to throw him through a wall. So, he decided that he would let her set the pace, no matter how fast, or slow, that might be – thus why he was there on Yavin Four impatiently waiting for her to arrive. He was both frustrated and excited by it. 

Before long, Theron was once again startled out of his daydream, this time by the sound of a ship clearing the atmosphere, approaching the Imperial side of the Coalition encampment to land. His heart started to pound in his chest when he saw that it was the Phoenix. A few minutes later, the ship took off again, speeding off into the distance. _That’s odd - she couldn’t have just left. I wonder why the ship didn’t stay._

 

Yavin Four – Nox

Nox watched as the Phoenix broke atmosphere and disappeared, leaving her and Khem Val standing on the Imperial landing pad. Turning, she noticed that all eyes were on her – there was no mistaking the small Sith who traveled with a Dashade. “Are you ready for this, my friend?” She looked up at Khem, placing a hand on his gigantic red arm.

“Always. Wherever you go, I follow, little one. None of these insects will touch you.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that, Khem,” Nox snickered. She descended the metal stairs and started to make her way through the Imperial encampment, Sith and soldier alike giving the pair a wide berth. “See?” She turned back to Khem and laughed. The Dashade seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, chuckling at the fearful whispers and gasps of surprise that emanated from around them. “Alright, Marr advised that the Coalition leaders would be waiting for us over by those ruins. Let’s hope they’ve made some progress, but based on the state of affairs here, I’d say likely not.”

None bothered her as she passed, giving her a chance to turn her thoughts inward. She felt it was a wise decision to order the pirate off the planet, no matter how much he may have fought her on it. Over the past few days spent in hyperspace, Andronikos had continued in his attempts to pry more information out of her regarding her interest and intentions towards Theron. More fights. More deflection. More glimpses of a side to Nik she'd never seen before. Territorial? Perhaps. But possessive? Never.

Left to his own devices, he was liable to do something foolish, and the last thing she needed was for him to confront the spy. Marr had warned her that tensions in the camp were running hot enough already due to such closed quarters – it would be inevitable that they’d come face to face. They’d likely end up killing each other.

_Oh Nik, what am I going to do with you?_

She did care for him immensely. Probably more than she should given her responsibilities, and the near-constant threats to her existence. But, they'd managed to build some semblance of a life together. Security. Companionship. Trust. Adrenaline. Pure, unadulterated lust. But love? Did he love her? He'd never said as much. Then again, she wasn't sure she even knew what love was, or would have been able to recognize it were it to rise up and spit in her face. All she knew of love was what she'd read in sappy romance novels, and that couldn't possibly be real. 

At its core, their relationship was a mutual understanding of convenience, one she was certain she didn't want to lose. That much, she was sure of...especially when whatever it was going on between her and Theron could only be short-lived.

She considered for a moment if she should tell the spy about the pirate. No, what would have been the point? Once their reason for even working together in the first place was gone, she'd never see him again anyways. 

_It was just business._

Sighing, she reached up and pulled her hood down further as she entered the ruins that housed the staging area for the Coalition leaders. Right away, Nox could see that Marr had not exaggerated when he had advised her that things were tense. Clustered around a large holomap, the leaders were practically shouting at each other. Well, not shouting exactly. The silence was worse. The Jedi Grand Master stood stiffly, successfully starting down Darth Marr despite her height disadvantage, while Marr’s blank mask stared right back, arms crossed defensively across his chest. Between them, Lana appeared to be at a loss with the situation, and just kept looking back and forth between them. Several nameless analysts skittered about, doing their best at trying to appear invisible while still managing to avoid each other. And Theron…Nox had to snicker to herself when she saw him standing off to the side with Jakarro, clearly not paying attention because he was too busy watching her approach.

“Someone appears to be pleased to see you, little Sith.”

“Are you sure, Khem? Perhaps he is just happy to see you,” she chuckled to the red giant at her side. Dropping behind his master as she began to ascend the stairs to the leadership platform, the Dashade made a sound that Nox had always interpreted as laughter. Khem may have been short with words, but he had a wonderfully dry sense of humor.

At the top of the stairs Nox locked eyes with Theron briefly, who gave her a slight nod before glancing at the two faction leaders and rolling his eyes. _So it is that bad. Thanks for the warning, Theron._  

“Lord Nox. I am sure we could all agree that we are pleased to see that you have decided to join us. There can be no mistaking it: the Emperor is on this moon. Revan is here as well. And another presence, if you wish to believe the Grand Master.” Marr inclined his hooded head towards the small woman across from him.

“The other presence – it’s unclear. The dark side permeates everything here. Saturates it. I’ve been to Oricon; this is another level entirely.”

Arching an eyebrow, Nox fixed the Grand Master with a smirk and chuckled. “Scared?”

“You must be joking.” The Jedi was clearly without a sense of humor. Glancing over at Theron, Nox caught him pinching the bridge of his nose while shaking his head in her direction.

Marr continued on with his assessment, expressionless as ever. “The Order of Revan is garrisoned inside an old Massassi temple. That is where the dark side is most prevalent.”

Stepping in closer to the older Dark Lord, Lana spoke up, adding her opinion. “We carved out an area as close to the temple as we could. The high concentrations of Massassi in these parts made it difficult.”

Theron snickered sarcastically from the corner, finally joining the group. “Yeah, well it didn’t help that you knew about the Massassi but didn’t bother to give a heads-up to our recon teams.” _And here we go._

“This is no time for in-fighting or deception. The stakes are far too high," she chided, hoping to end all argument right there. 

Much to her surprise, the Grand Master looked at Nox and nodded. “Agreed, we cannot let emotion cloud our judgement. More easily said than done for some, I suppose. While Darth Marr and I have reached an accord, many of those under our command obviously don’t share our sense of commitment.” _Well, from what I just witnessed, you’re both clearly setting a wonderful example._

“If you were to assist in shoring up our position, it would serve as an example to the rest.” _And Darth Marr can apparently read minds. Let us send a Dark Council member to do grunt work in order to make people fall in line because clearly the other leaders can’t._ “Lana will fill you in on the details, but first I’d like a word.” Holding out one arm, Marr motioned for Nox to follow.

 

Yavin Four – Theron

Theron watched as Marr lead Nox down the stairs and off to the side, with Khem Val pacing anxiously at a distance, never taking an eye off his master. With his implants, he was easily able to isolate their conversation above the chittering of the others while pretending to look busy. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but his curiosity got the best of him.

“Nox, remember what I told you all those years ago – you are the future of the Sith. You cannot afford to become distracted. Not now. Not ever. With us leading the Dark Council, we can usher in a new era for the Sith Empire. No more ceaseless infighting and power struggles. We will lead the Sith to greatness – and with the loyalty of the Wrath, we can drag those who resist.”

Theron couldn’t help wondering what the face of the war would look like if the Republic was forced to take on a united Sith Empire. It could be a very good thing, or a very bad one. To be honest, he actually felt an ounce of respect for the older Dark Lord at that moment. He also couldn’t help feeling a little swell of pride, knowing that Darth Nox was such an important figure in the Empire – in the galaxy actually – and she was his…girlfriend? Lover? Fuck buddy? _Wow, how pathetic am I? I’m a 28-year old man-child who just used the words ‘girlfriend’ and ‘Dark Lord’ in the same train of thought._

“Marr, you know that we share the same vision for the Empire.”

“Then do not become distracted. Use this liaison with the spy to our advantage, and then end it.”

Realizing Marr was referring to him, Theron unconsciously started to hold his breath, doing his best to continue looking busy. _Ok, respect I had. Gone._

Nox paused for a moment before responding. “It’s not just to _our_ advantage, Marr. Republic and Empire. Jedi and Sith. We are not so different, yet few see it. I have come to see it. Lana sees it. I believe you might see it. And I believe that Theron is also starting to see it. If we can make this alliance work, if I can get through to even one, then perhaps there is a chance to stop this pointless war. The Emperor’s power over the Empire is all but gone. War is what _he_ wanted. You said it yourself – it is time for change.”

 _Wow_. Theron sighed, letting out the breath he had been holding.

“As always, your council is…refreshing, my friend. But, a word of warning. We must keep in mind that there are many of those in the Empire, even those on the Dark Council, who still cling to old beliefs and would see us as a threat. Change will be difficult, and will not come without a price. If you truly care about keeping the spy safe, the safest place for him is to be away from you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Whatever it Takes"  
> Imagine Dragons
> 
> Falling too fast to prepare for this  
> Tripping in the world could be dangerous  
> Everybody circling is vulturous  
> Negative, nepotist
> 
> Everybody waiting for the fall of man  
> Everybody praying for the end of times  
> Everybody hoping they could be the one  
> I was born to run, I was born for this
> 
> Whip, whip  
> Run me like a racehorse  
> Pull me like a ripcord  
> Break me down and build me up  
> I wanna be the slip, slip  
> Word upon your lip, lip  
> Letter that you rip, rip  
> Break me down and build me up
> 
> Whatever it takes  
> Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins  
> I do whatever it takes  
> Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains  
> Whatever it takes  
> Yeah take me to the top I'm ready for  
> Whatever it takes  
> Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins  
> I do what it takes
> 
> Always had a fear of being typical  
> Looking at my body feeling miserable  
> Always hanging on to the visual  
> I wanna be invisible
> 
> Looking at my years like a martyrdom  
> Everybody needs to be a part of them  
> Never be enough, I'm the prodigal son  
> I was born to run, I was born for this
> 
> Whip, whip  
> Run me like a racehorse  
> Pull me like a ripcord  
> Break me down and build me up  
> I wanna be the slip, slip  
> Word upon your lip, lip  
> Letter that you rip, rip  
> Break me down and build me up
> 
> Whatever it takes  
> Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins  
> I do whatever it takes  
> Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains  
> Whatever it takes  
> Yeah take me to the top, I'm ready for  
> Whatever it takes  
> Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins  
> I do what it takes
> 
> Hypocritical, egotistical  
> Don't wanna be the parenthetical, hypothetical  
> Working hard on something that I'm proud of, out of the box  
> An epoxy to the world and the vision we've lost  
> I'm an apostrophe  
> I'm just a symbol to remind you that there's more to see  
> I'm just a product of the system of catastrophe  
> And yet a masterpiece, and yet I'm half-diseased  
> And when I am deceased  
> At least I'll go down to the grave and die happily  
> And leave the body and my soul to be a part of thee  
> I do what it takes


	8. Missile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nox gets a surprise visit. Khem is still adorable. Theron is jealous? Awww, cute. 
> 
> I was listening to "Missile" by Dorothy.

Yavin Four – Nox

Back at the Coalition encampment, Khem Val jumped off the shuttle and turned, holding out his arms to his master. “This task was beneath us, little Sith. I would have been shamed by Veshikk Urk if he saw that I had been reduced to pest control.”

Nox smiled down at the Dashade and giggled. “And you killed Veshikk Urk without even exerting yourself.” She reached out and placed her hands on the Dashade’s wide shoulders as he gripped her by the waist, gently lifting her to the ground. “We all have our parts to play, Khem.” Tugging her hood back into place, Nox paused for a minute, looking out over the treetops below the landing pad. “Besides, this planet is beautiful. Think of it as an excuse to take in some scenery.”

“Hmmm. This place feels…alive.”

“Indeed.” Turning, she surveyed the Coalition encampment and sighed. “This, on the other hand, is not beautiful.” She waved her hands, indicating the two factions, split evenly down the middle. “I suppose it never could have been as easy as just asking them to play nice. It’s like watching two manka cats circling each other over a mate.”

The Dashade gurgled in amusement behind his master. “That would go against their very nature, my master. These little beings were bred in the crucible of war – it is all they know.”

“Yes, I suppose you are correct, my friend.” Nox was reminded of her earlier conversation with Darth Marr. Attractions aside, working with Theron had shown her that it _was_ possible to find common ground to stand on. Others would come around – it would just take time.

As she descended from the metal shuttle platform, Nox heard the distant rumble of a ship approaching – a very familiar rumble. Before long, she could see that the ship closing fast on their position indeed looked just like the Phoenix.

“It looks like your pirate has decided to not heed the warning you gave him, little one.” Khem Val came to stand next to his master as they watched the ship approach.

Scowling, Nox threw a glare at the Dashade out of the corner of her eye. “He wouldn’t dare.”

By the time the ship landed, Nox had already made her way towards the landing pad, anger boiling under the surface of her calm visage. However, as quickly as it had appeared, it was replaced by curiosity when she felt a presence, and not the one she expected. There were only two Fury-class interceptors currently in service that she knew of – the Phoenix, and the Valkyrie. _Could the Wrath actually be here?_

Her question was soon answered when the ship’s ramp descended, revealing one of the most stunning creatures she’d ever seen. Staring down at her was a Twi’lek with skin so pale, it could be compared to the color of fresh fallen snow. In stark contrast to the white of her skin, inky black tattoos scrolled across her cheeks and lekku, continuing down into the neckline of her black leather armor that left little to the imagination.

“My _Lord Wrath_. This is certainly a surprise.”

The Twi’lek sauntered down the ramp, approaching with a casual air of authority. “Hello, _Nox_. It's been a long time.” The camp around them grew silent as the two powerful Sith stared each other down, with even Khem Val keeping his distance. After what seemed like an eternity, the Twi’lek’s lips quirked ever so slightly, her expression finally cracking into a full-on smile. “I give up. You were always the serious one.”

Nox laughed, returning the smile. “I have my moments.” The pair locked forearms in an embrace, the forced tension from only moments before gone completely. “I have missed you, my friend!” Nox heard several sighs of relief from around them as the usual hustle and bustle of the camp returned. Again, she took in the sight of the friend she hadn’t seen in years. Beautiful wasn’t a word that would normally be associated with Lord Akori’ira. She was certainly beautiful, but majestic would be a more fitting descriptor. Even the scar that ran from brow to cheek over her right eye only served to add to her mystique. Nox remembered how Akori'ira had acquired it – she had given it to her during a particularly intense sparring session when they were both acolytes on Korriban. She also noted that the Wrath now sported a patch over her left eye. She was genuinely curious about the story behind that one, but that was a question for another time. “Apologies for being blunt, Kira, but what are you doing here?”

Snickering, the Twi’lek held up her arms, feigning innocence. “You know how I do so much enjoy making an entrance.” She turned, yelling up the ramp into the hold of her ship. “Pierce! You can come out now.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

Nox quirked her lips ever so slightly when she saw the burly man trot down the ramp to join them. He may have born the sigil of the Imperial army on his battle-scarred red and black armor, but he had eyes only for the Wrath. _Oh Kira, you always did have a thing for men in uniform. And the more scars, the better._ She did have to admit that he was ruggedly handsome in an ‘I can break you in half with my bare hands’ sort of way. While Andronikos and Theron both had similar builds and were only a bit taller than she, Pierce was every bit as tall as Khem Val.

“Nox, this is Lieutenant Pierce. And I assume this...” She held out a hand, indicating towards Khem “…is the Dashade I’ve heard so much about.”

Nox turned her head slightly towards the Dashade behind her. “Indeed. Khem, say 'hello' to the Lord Wrath and Lieutenant Pierce...” Khem Val growled and stepped forward, ducking his head slightly before the Wrath in a sign of deference, choosing not to acknowledge the soldier in the slightest. “Interesting. You, he likes, Kira. The lieutenant, not so much.” The soldier shifted uncomfortably, watching the Dashade warily. “Oh, not to worry. He doesn’t particularly care for anybody,” she laughed, patting her large companion on the arm.

“Pierce, you are so adorable when you’re nervous.” Akori’ira nudged the tall solder with an elbow. “Come, let’s see why Marr summoned us here.”

Nox held out an arm to the Wrath, indicating the way to the Coalition staging area. “I believe I can answer that question.” The two Sith Lords started to make their way to the ruins, each flanked by their tall companions.

“Oh?”

“Vitiate is here. You have a unique understanding of our fallen Emperor. I believe Marr wishes to exploit that understanding.”

The Twi’lek turned her head as she walked, fixing Nox with a single lavender eye. “I wouldn’t call it an understanding. The Emperor called upon me to become his Wrath – it’s not exactly a job you say ‘no’ to.”

“I see your point," she mused, inclining her head towards the other woman. "Regardless, I believe Marr is hoping that you will assist us with our endeavors here. I am sure you must have heard by now what Vitiate intends to do.”

“I have, and Marr won’t need to convince me. I’ve never really liked working for that nutjob anyways."

“I can’t even begin to imagine. Ah, here were are. Time for you to make one of those entrances you claim to love so much," she laughed, making her way towards the raised section that had been converted into the staging area.

As the pair approached the holomap, all eyes fell to the white Twi’lek at her side. Groaning internally, Nox remembered that the Wrath could never blend in, no matter where she went. She tugged at her hood, wondering if she could feel any more invisible. At the top of the stairs, Nox could see that Theron was looking at Akori’ira like he had just seen a ghost.

“Is something wrong, Theron?”

“N… No. No, I’m good.”

Narrowing her eyes briefly at her son, the Grand Master stepped around the holomap and planted herself directly in front of Akori’ira. “Marr, what is the meaning of this?”

“This is the Emperor’s Wrath. I summoned her here.” Nox saw a brief shadow of what appeared to be surprise pass over the Grand Master’s eyes, betraying her otherwise calm façade. _What is going on here?_

Akori’ira casually leaned back on one hip and crossed her arms over her chest, smiling down at the shorter Jedi. “Darth Nox filled me in. There is no need to ask, Marr. You have my assistance.” She continued with the very awkward staring match until the Grand Master desisted, moving back to her side of the holomap across from Marr.

“Excellent. With the Emperor’s Wrath on our side, we are sure to have an advantage.”

“Right, well thanks to Nox here, we’ve got a much better picture now of what’s between us and the temple.” With his back to all but the two Sith in front of him, Theron gave Nox a wink and started to tap away on the datapad in his hands. “First thing’s the Massassi. We knew we’d be facing a lot, but now we know it’s a lot – a lot.”

“Massassi….” All heads turned to the Wrath, waiting for her to continue. Looking around, she shrugged her shoulders and laughed. “What? Am I really the only one to find humor in that word?”

Theron snickered and looked at Nox with a glimmer in his eye. _Yes, she is a bit touched._

Sighing, Lana shook her head and took the datapad from Theron’s hands. “There can be no reasoning or bargaining with the Massassi. Once we encroach upon their territory, they will attack.”

“Which is where we come in.” The Wrath’s one lavender eye sparkled in excitement.

“We could use your insight here, Lord Wrath. I have all confidence that Darth Nox and the Dashade…”

“…I’m a warrior, Marr. My place is on the front lines. You wanted my help – you will accept what I give you.” The Wrath crossed her arms over her chest, the slight twitch of her lekku the only sign of her irritation. “Please, continue.”

Marr stood motionless, his expressionless mask focused on the Twi’lek before him. After what seemed like hours, the older Dark Lord continued. “The best of the Imperial Guard are trained in special facilities – honed to physical perfection and instilled with unwavering loyalty. We found one such facility between us and the temple. The Emperor must have had it constructed in secret.”

Still warily eyeing the Wrath, the Grand Master interjected. “And there are life forms inside. Human. Whether it’s Revanites or the Emperor’s guard, they won’t be looking to help us.

Having gotten her attention with the concept of being given a task that might actually require her particular skills, Nox stepped forward with a pensive smile. “Bringing the willful in line is one of my specialties. Leave them to me."

“I will not condone what you are suggesting.” Frowning, the Grand Master shifted her focus from the Wrath to the young Dark Lord.

Marr sighed and held up his hands, speaking right over the small Jedi. “And what do you think _your_ agent does in the Republic’s name? That location is of great strategic value." He panned his gaze back to the two Sith Lords. "Make clear to its inhabitants, whomever they are, that the facility is ours now.”

Nodding, the Wrath turned and started to descend the stairs while Nox shared a brief smile with Theron before doing the same. At the bottom, Akori’ira motioned to Pierce, indicating that the soldier should stay put. Nox chuckled to herself, wishing it were that easy with Khem. “You’re staying here, Khem. The Wrath and I have some catching up to do.”

“My master, my place is at your side. What can I possibly do here, wander around in the ruins?”

“You could always keep the lieutenant here company," she quipped.

“Not necessary, m’lord. I can make myself useful elsewhere. Oh, I see – another funny one.” A smile ghosted over the soldier's face as his eyes appreciatively took in the fairly exposed curves. “You two make quite the pair. I almost feel sorry for the Massassi – or whatever, whoever, else gets in your way.”

Smiling wickedly, Akori’ira turned and looked up at Theron, who was watching the exchange at the top of the stairs with a not-so-happy look on his face. With a glimmer in her eye, she leaned on one hip against Nox’s shoulder, her lekku lightly brushing against the fabric of her friend's robes.

After a nudge from the Wrath, Nox turned to see what she was looking at, noticing that Theron was still watching them. “Or better yet, I’m sure Theron could use your help.” Growling, the Dashade looked from his master to the agent and back. Nox quirked her lips into a lopsided smile and winked at Theron as he narrowed his eyes at her with a sigh, shaking his head in disbelief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you haven't figured it out yet, Akori'ira, my Wrath, is a bit...eccentric. Nutty. Batshit even. She and Nox go way back, and when they're together it's like watching Mean Girls. :/
> 
> In reference to her skin color - we know that Twi'leks can get white skin in-game with a high enough dark level. However, with that lovely skin color comes all sorts of...schmutz. I take no issue with the darkening around the eyes, but really...the crap around the mouth makes it look like the character has been sucking off a squid. In addition, per the Wookiepedia, Twi'leks can have white skin. So in my head, Akori'ira has lovely natural white skin that she was born with. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it! :P


	9. Amen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They may be Sith, but they still girl talk :/  
> Akori'ira opens up about how she lost an eye. Nox has entirely too much going on.
> 
> If you aren't familiar with the Warrior storyline, be forewarned there be spoilers ahead! 
> 
> I was listening to "Amen" by Halestorm.

Yavin Four - Nox

As Darth Nox and Lord Akori’ira watched the treetops blur by beneath the transport shuttle, the silence between them was becoming palpable. Nox had never expected to see her old friend again, and on Yavin Four of all places. The pair had been inseparable at the academy on Korriban, but once they were both claimed as apprentices they had lost touch. They had run into each other again on Alderaan, both sent to the planet by their respective masters, but she hadn’t seen the white Twi’lek since. How easy it was to just slip back into their old rapport – the Wrath hardly seemed changed at all. “You’re looking a little more rugged these days, Kira.”

The white Twi’lek at her side fixed her with a lavender glare, a hint of pain passing over her one good eye before disappearing with a glimmer. “You mean this?” With a flash of a toothy grin, she brought up a hand, indicating the patch over her left eye. “Oh, I don’t know, I kinda like it – I wear my battle scars proudly. I think it adds to my roguish charm.”

“I would hate to see the one who gave it to you.”

Her smile fell, the pain returning to her face as she looked at the Nox and then off into the distance. “It’s…a long story.” She sighed and closed her eye, hands at her sides clenching into fists.

The shuttle slowed, dropping below the tops of the trees to hover above a small outpost inside the perimeter the Coalition scouts had set up just north of the temple guard training facility. In the short time it took for the shuttle to slow, Akori’ira had regained all of her lost composure, transformed back into the charismatic form Nox had seen only moments before. “Ah, show time.” Grinning wickedly, she brandished her single red-bladed lightsaber and somersaulted from the open doors, finishing with a three-point landing. From the ground, she quirked her tattooed brows and shouted up to her friend. “You are coming, aren’t you?”

Looking down at the white Twi’lek below her, Nox narrowed her eyes into a lopsided grin and launched herself out of the shuttle, drawing her black-red bladed saberstaff in mid-air with a spin, finally coming to land in the same three-point position, satisfied that she'd out-done the other Sith's performance. Tugging her hood back into place, she stood up and regarded companion with a steely gaze, chin held high.

The Wrath chuckled and started to move off in the jungle. “Still the show off, I see.”

Nox made to follow, but paused when her communicator beeped.

_“Do you have a moment, Dark Lord?”_

“Now is as good a time as any, Lana. It’s just us girls here.” Looking off to Kira, Nox sheathed her saberstaff and waved to the Twi’lek, who loped back to stand by her side. 

_“It’s nothing important, but…”_

Nox rolled her eyes in impatience, leaning back on one hip. “By all means, take your time. We’re only about to walk into enemy territory.”

_“It’s Theron. You should see the way he glares at me.”_

“Well, you did trick him into getting himself kidnapped, Lana. Can you blame him?” Akori’ira cocked her head to the side, arching one brow in curiosity.

_“You’re…you’re right.”_

“Look, if it’s any consolation, I may have overreacted in my initial response to the situation, all things considered.”

_“Thank you, my lord. I…I don’t know what to say.”_

“You needn’t say anything, Lana,” she added. “Just…run it by me first next time you want to send my lover on a dangerous mission.”

_“Yes, Dark Lord.”_

“And Lana? He will come around eventually.” She ended the call and huffed, planting both hands on her hips as she stared thoughtfully at the ground.

Sheathing her lightsaber, Kira paced around Nox with her hands crossed over her chest. “What was that?”

“It is a long story,” she chuckled.

“Alright, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” The Twi’lek held out her arm, motioning to a nearby tree just outside of the outpost.

Leaning against the tree, Nox listened as Lord Akori’ira told her of how she had let her guard down and fallen in love with an Imperial under her command. “He didn’t even care that I wasn’t human. Normally an Imperial would never choose to be openly involved with a Twi’lek, but Quinn was proud to be at my side. We fought many battles together, and against all odds, I was happy, happy enough to actually marry him.” Kira glanced at Nox, seeing the look of surprise on her face, and rolled her eyes. “I know, right? Me. Marriage.” Pacing, the Wrath looked away into the distance. “But, not long after our marriage on Dromund Kaas, he lured me into a trap. Where he tried to kill me.” She looked down at the ground, hands clenching into fists. “You see, he had been my master’s puppet all along. When I became a threat to Baras, he was given the task of eliminating me.” Akori’ira looked up at Nox, the one good eye flashing crimson. “I lost my eye in the fight, but in the end he had underestimated me.”

“Did you kill him?” Nox spared a thought for her years spent as a slave on Dromund Kaas – it was a different kind of pain, but no less raw.

The Wrath stopped pacing and brushed her lekku over her shoulders so she could lean back on the tree beside her. “No. I should have. I almost did, but right at the last second I couldn’t. Perhaps some part of me still loved him. Still loves him. But that part of me is dead.” Letting out a ragged breath, she gazed off into the jungle.

“So, where is he now?”

“He claimed that he still loved me, still wanted to serve me. But how could he expect me to trust him after that? He broke my heart.” Clenching her fists again, she let out a long sigh. “I sent him away. I don’t know where he is, and frankly, I don’t care. There is only one person in the whole galaxy I will ever trust again, and she’s standing right here.” Kira shifted and turned towards Nox, a ghost of a smile passing over her face as she brought a hand up to run the back of her index finger over her unscarred cheek. “You’re my greatest friend, Lu.”

Nox was pleasantly surprised to hear the nickname that only Akori’ira used for her. It had been a very long time since she’d heard a reference to her real name. In truth, the Twi’lek was one of only two people she had ever trusted with that information. Really, it was just a name, but it was a symbol of who she had been before she became Lord Kallig and Darth Nox. None but Kira really knew that person, not even Andronikos. The Twi’lek had been there when she was brought to Korriban – she had seen the shattered human slave, and for whatever reason, had helped her to become strong, to be Sith. Without Akori’ira, the slave who would be Darth Nox would never have survived. She had considered opening up to Theron as well, but…what would be the point? That and the idea of being that open with someone else, giving over that power, terrified her, especially after hearing the Wrath’s painful tale. Returning the smile, she leaned her hooded head against her friend’s forehead and together they looked out into the jungle. “And what a broken pair we make, Kira.”

Akori’ira narrowed her one good eye and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t make the same mistake I did. Never let them know who you really are, Lu. Once they do, they’ll use it against you. Love is an emotion creatures like us cannot afford. I learned that the hard way.”

“And what about the Lieutenant?”

“Pierce? He stood by me. Through everything. He’s earned his place at my side, and in my bed. He may be a grunt, but he’s an intelligent man. He knows who he sleeps with and makes no moves to further his position. Think of it as a symbiotic relationship. He gets all the action he could ever want, both on and off the field, and I have someone at my side who can keep up with me.” Pushing herself off the tree trunk, the Wrath paced a few steps away and turned back, arms still crossed over her chest. “And now I believe you owe me a story.”

“Really, there isn’t much to tell that you probably haven’t already figured out for yourself. And it pales in comparison to what you’ve gone through.”

Akori’ira cocked her head to the side in thought, lekku twitching. “Hmmm, when you put it that way… Let’s see how much I’ve figured out.” She held up a hand, leaning back on one hip. “That pretty piece of work in the red jacket couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, and he looked rather put out when Pierce made his appreciation known. I take it he’s the one Lana was talking about?”

“Indeed.”

Scrunching her face up into a pensive gaze, Kira began tapping a finger to her chin. “And by his accent, not to mention the distinct lack of a pole firmly inserted up his arse, I gather he is with the Republic.”

“As always, you see it correctly, my friend.” She already had a feeling of what sort of lesson her friend would attempt to impart over this new knowledge. 

“Well, I don’t see the issue," the Wrath stated in a matter-of-fact tone, but held up a hand in warning before continuing. "...provided you keep your head about you. Enjoy what he offers, and use your influence with him to further our interests here. But, always remember that he is exactly what _he is_ – the enemy. He will always put his Republic first, just as he should expect you to do no less.”

Nox let out a sharp breath through her nose and leaned her head against the tree, looking up at the sky. “Marr said much the same thing.”

“Well, he isn’t wrong.” The Twi’lek returned to her position next to her, leaning back against the tree, tchun and tchin brushed over either shoulder.

“If only things could go back to being simple." Nox let out a defeated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. "Truly Kira, I envy you for what you’ve managed to work out with the Lieutenant.” She glanced at the Wrath from the corner of her eye and snickered, nudging her in the shoulder. “Not to mention the visual benefits. He _is_ quite nice to look at.”

The white Twi’lek laughed, flashing a devious smile, her mind clearly remembering times long past. “You’re more than welcome to join us. I’m quite sure Pierce would be beside himself, and there’s _more_ than enough of him to go around.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck, my friend. I don’t need any additional complications at the moment.”

Akori’ira rolled her eyes and huffed, nudging her shoulder right back. “It doesn’t have to be a complication. We are Sith, we do what we want.”

“I...I know, and normally I would take the offer in a heartbeat, you know that. But…it’s complicated." Thoroughly shaken by the emotions rolling around in her head, she looked away, off into the trees. What was happening to her?

Kira shifted and turned back towards Nox, still leaning on the tree. “My my, he really has gotten under your skin, hasn’t he?”

“Against my better judgement, yes. But, that’s not the only thing.”

“Ha! Two men competing for the affections of the illustrious Darth Nox?”

“Believe me, it’s not as fun as it sounds. I hate this doubt that has been choking me, and I find that I’m always second-guessing myself. In the past I wouldn’t have given two thoughts to bedding whomever I pleased. But…” Huffing, Nox screwed her eyes shut. “Theron is different, and Andronikos…” She let out a long exhalation of breath. “Andronikos has grown more…attached…as of late.”

“You know this can’t end well for you and the spy, right?” Narrowing her one good eye, Akori’ira fixed Nox with a harsh gaze. “Remember what I said, Lu. Love is a weakness. Take your pleasures where you can find them, and never expect more. That way you’ll never be surprised when things get ugly.”

Frowning, Nox set her jaw and stared ahead, eyes rimmed in fire. “I know. I’m not foolish enough to believe that whatever is going on between us could carry on after our business together has concluded. That would be dangerous, for the both of us.” She continued to gaze out at the trees for a moment, considering a thought. “Kira, about that offer…” She looked to the Wrath, softening her expression.

“Oh, have you changed your mind?” The Twi’lek’s tattooed eyebrows may as well have been waggling, for the look she gave her friend.  

“No, not exactly. But you _have_ given me an idea,” she chuckled.

By then, the white Twi’lek had a full-on smirk on her face. “Oh? Do tell.”

“How do you fancy pirates?”

“Color me intrigued.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, it always bothered me that you couldn't send Quinn away (or kill him) after the "Quinn-cident." I get that BioWare couldn't take away a companion, but really...there's no way Akori'ira would have allowed him to just lurk around on the ship. Obviously Kira still has an unhealed wound, as I'd imagine most people's Warriors would...we shall see what happens when she meets him again. Iokath is such a long way away and I have no idea what kind of place she's going to be in by then (I have a few ideas). 
> 
> In regards to the eyebrows...from what I've read, Twi'lek females commonly paint or tattoo them on their faces to make them appear more "human." Since Kira is already covered in tattoos, I figured she would have hers tattooed on (she has the 2nd heaviest tattooed preset...not the one with the blacked eyes, but the similar one with just the slash on the cheeks).


	10. Kanye's in my Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khem and Theron are just entirely too cute on the bromance scale. Theron comes to a decision in a pretty abrupt way. Have I mentioned that I'm not much of a fan of mommy dearest? 
> 
> So this chapter ended up going in a completely different direction from what I originally intended. I kinda just let Theron do what he wanted here and went with it, haha ;) It also ended up way longer than I thought, so I split it into two separate chapters. 
> 
> For this one I was listening to "Kanye's in my Head" by Boy Epic. It really has nothing to do with anything I was writing, but I just love the song! So there. :P
> 
> More smexytimes coming up in the next chapter!

Yavin Four – Theron

Theron waited impatiently for Nox and the Wrath to return. She had been as good as her word; the red giant – oh wait, he had a name – Khem Val, hadn’t left his side since the two Sith had walked away, thick as thieves. The soldier who had arrived with the Wrath was of no help. The man had simply guffawed like an ass and had walked away, shoulders shaking in laughter. So there he was, doing his best to stay busy and ignore the fact that he had a very red, very large, and very intimidating shadow following him about, chittering and grumbling to himself as he went. Khem was either very annoyed, or very amused – Theron couldn’t tell. The giant made it near impossible to get any work done because nobody besides Lana or Darth Marr would set a foot near him. His mother had even looked at him like he had sprouted horns. Theron wondered if she even knew what a Dashade was, or was curious as to why a member of the Dark Council had told her ‘pet’ to stay with him.

As the sun started to slide down beneath the treetops, lengthening the shadows within the ruins, Theron heard the Dashade grumble at a different pitch than he had been for the past few hours. He imagined that the baritone grumbles were actually words, but his translator didn’t speak ‘ancient force-swallowing giant.’ “Alright, alright. What’s up, Khem?” Looking up, he saw that the giant’s attention had been drawn to the area near the entrance to the ruins a ways off. Sure enough, he saw Nox’s hooded form next to the leather-clad white Twi’lek, both making their way towards the staging area. Being lead – dragged – behind them by Imperial soldiers was an older man in red armor, screaming nonsensically at everything and everyone he passed. Theron dropped the datapad in his hands, thoroughly curious about the loud man Nox had in tow. “Thanks, big guy. Let’s go see they've brought us.” The Dashade chuckled behind him, keeping his place at the spy’s shoulder as they both waited at the top of the stairs, thoroughly amused by the procession heading in their direction.

“We’ve a gift,” Nox called up the stairs, a lopsided smile quirking her lips. She motioned to the soldiers leading the man to continue up, depositing him in front of Marr and the Grand Master. “He was leading the temple guards in that facility. Do be careful with him – he is quite cracked.” Following them up the stairs, the Nox paused in front of Theron, eyes flicking between him and the Dashade at his side. “I assume Khem was of help to you?” 

Chuckling, Theron rolled his eyes and glanced up at his shadow. “Oh yeah, totally did his job. Nobody wanted to come anywhere near me.”

“Excellent.” She winked, flashing him that crooked smile that made his heart skip as she continued past him to stand above the prisoner in front of the Coalition leaders. Following closely behind her was the white Twi’lek, who gave him a knowing smirk as she passed. _Well, I suppose that particular cat is out of the bag,_  he sighed to himself as he scrubbed a hand through his hair in embarrassment, quite wishing he could melt into the floor right at that moment. 

Much to his surprise, he noticed that the Dashade did not make a move to leave his side. Of course – she hadn’t told him to. Looking out over the quickly darkening ruins, Theron smiled to himself in amusement. Sure, the giant kinda scared the crap out of him and everybody else around him, but he had to admit that the idea of Nox wanting Khem to stay with him in her absence was sort of cute, in an odd ‘Sithy’ sort of way.

“He’s raving mad, but he still has information we need to breach the temple and prevent the Emperor’s return.” The sound of Marr’s synthesized voice snapped Theron out of his reverie. Turning, he saw the older Dark Lord standing opposite his mother, both trying to lay claim to the prisoner.

“I would like to interview him personally. Someone in his state must be handled delicately.” The Grand Master nodded to one of the Republic soldiers at her flank, motioning for him to collect the man in red lying on the floor.

“Time is of the essence. A more hands-on approach is required.” Seeing the older Sith’s faceless mask swivel in his direction, the Republic solider balked, shrinking back behind the Grand Master, who was standing rigid, shoulders pushed back, chin held high. Ugh, of course they’d argue over which side would get him. _Go ahead, mark your territory, people. This is getting us nowhere._

The man was an Imperial, and did not fall under Republic jurisdiction. The Grand Master didn’t really have a right to stake a claim over him. However, Theron knew all too well what sort of torture Darth Marr had in store for that raving lunatic. Push much further and they'd get nothing out of him. Surprisingly, just as he was figuring that it was a lost cause, Nox chimed in and said exactly what he was thinking. Wow. And Marr actually backed down. Double wow. He must really respect the hell out of her. Would this woman ever stop surprising him?

At a nod from his mother, Theron made to follow her as her men collected the captive to move him off to her chambers. “Stop. I will not have that dark creature involved when such delicate work is required.” Looking behind him, the spy noticed that Khem Val was still following him. Yay.

Growling, the Dashade narrowed his eyes at the Grand Master, but made no move to leave Theron’s side. “Thanks, big guy. Can you, uh, excuse me? Please?” Still no-go. Khem Val made a sound that could have been equated to a chuckle and crossed his arms over his chest, standing firm, eyes shifting between him and the Grand Master. The situation was quickly becoming more and more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Theron looked to Nox for help, wordlessly asking for support with a quirk of his brows.

Nox snickered, a devilish twinkle in her eye. Cocking her head ever so slightly, she flicked her eyes from the Dashade to her side. Khem Val chittered, looking down at Theron and tapped him on the shoulder before moving off to stand behind his master and the Wrath. “I told you, Theron. He’s taken a liking to you,” she laughed.

Sighing in relief, Theron was finally able to turn back and continue following his mother. As he made his way out of the staging area, he was stopped in his tracks by the sound of something he never thought to hear – the sound of a very loud synthesized guffaw as Dark Marr broke down in laughter. Chuckling to himself, Theron shook his head in amusement and continued on. _Well, at least my embarrassment wasn’t for nothing – ‘Darth Always-Serious’ has a sense of humor after all._

\---------------

Theron casually lounged against a wall and watched the Grand Master talk with the crazed Imperial guard. As he listened to the Jedi’s soothing voice, he couldn’t help remembering all the awkward conversations where his mother had stumbled over her words, lacking the typical air of confident authority that pretty much all Jedi seemed to possess. When it came to dealing with anybody other than her own son, however, she was able to make the world fall away and bring comfort to even the most tortured souls. Chuckling to himself, he wondered if their difficulties at communicating with each other were due to his own stubbornness, or her inability to reconcile the fact that he was her son. Maybe it was a bit of both. Either way, with seemingly little effort, she was able to get the damaged man to open up and answer any question she asked.

Through her coaxing, they learned that there was a weapon inside the temple that could be used to eradicate all life on the moon and that Revan was hoping to use it to bring the Sith Emperor back – to somehow destroy him – which made absolutely no sense, but that was besides the point. In short, they were all dead if they didn’t stop it. Theron felt a stab of panic run through him, not for his own life, but for the life of one specific person. Sure, he was genuinely worried about everybody else on the moon, and the galaxy as a whole, but Nox’s safety had jumped to the forefront of his mind. Thankfully, there was apparently a way to deactivate the weapon.

Once the Republic soldiers had returned to collect the captive guard, Theron left his place on the wall and approached the Grand Master, arms crossed over his chest. “Alright, so now we know what Revan’s plan is. I need to go talk it through with 'Nox and Co.' to plan our next move. We’ll meet back in the morning with a solid game plan.” He turned to leave, tactical scenarios and logistics already running swiftly through his mind. Halfway to the door, the quiet sound of his mother calling his name stopped him.

“Theron.”

He paused, all color draining from his face. Groaning internally, Theron could already guess at what the Grand Master wanted to talk about, and that particular conversation would not end well. “What is it, Master Satele?” he sighed, scrunching his eyes shut, back still to her. He knew the deliberate formality in his voice would sting.

“Something has come to my attention that I would like to discuss with you. I think you know what that is.” She may as well have been talking about the weather, her voice was so even and devoid of emotion.

Clenching his jaw, Theron turned and fixed the Grand Master with a narrow-eyed glare, daring her to say what he knew she wanted to. “No, why don’t you tell me?” He leaned back on one hip, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for her response.

The Grand Master stood several feet away, doing her best to appear as tall as possible, blue eyes glittering as they stared him down. Watching her, Theron noticed that it was the same pose she always adopted when someone threatened her authority. “I know that you’ve grown inappropriately close to one of the Sith Lords that you have been working with.” Her eyes quickly flicked to the floor and back. “I fear that you’ve become compromised and are being taken advantage of.”

Bristling, Theron leaned in and brought a hand up to point at the small woman. “You know _nothing_ about her,” he snarled, the force behind his words causing the Jedi’s calm expression to falter ever so slightly.

The Grand Master held up her hands, palms out, her mask of emotionless serenity restored. “Theron, I don’t need to – she is Sith. Can’t you see that she’s using you? Whatever she has you believing, it’s a lie – the Dark Side has clouded your judgement.”

“Don’t. You have no right to tell me how to run my personal life. _Mother_.” Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Theron laughed when he realized that the same voice she had used only moments before to soothe the crackpot now only served to incite his rage.

“You are correct. I don’t. But I do have a right to involve myself in matters of Republic security. If you continue to carry on with a member of the Dark Council, I will be forced to inform both Director Trant and Supreme Commander Malcom.” Chin held high, the small Jedi’s expression turned to ice as she attempted to reinforce her last words.

“Wow, you aren’t kidding, are you? Can’t even let me be happy for five minutes.” Theron laughed, pacing back and forth in frustration. He was angry with himself because he had known this conversation was bound to happen, yet it had still caught him off-guard. The ultimatum was clear – choose to continue with his life’s work for the Republic and the SIS, or risk throwing all of that away on the chance of having something he’d never had before. Heart pounding in his chest, he scrunched his eyes shut for a brief second, hearing in his head the way Nox had said his name when she thought he couldn’t hear. He’d spent so many years alone, pouring all of his energy into his work because that was all he had, and now he wasn’t sure that was enough anymore – no, he knew it wasn’t enough anymore. Decision made, he held up his hands in defeat. “You know what, go for it. I don’t care. I refuse to defend myself to you – this conversation is over.” Sighing, he turned his back on the Grand Master, once again making for the door.

“Theron…I’m only trying to look out for you!”

Pausing briefly at the door, Theron called back over his shoulder, refusing to look the small Jedi in the eye. “What bothers you more, _mother_ , the fact that she’s Sith, or the shame you feel for knowing that _your son_ could actually fall in love with one?”

\---------------

By the time Theron stormed out of his mother’s chambers, the sun had already faded to twilight and only a few analysts were left scurrying about, leaving the staging area largely deserted. He needed to calm down, get his bearings, and the best thing for that was to lose himself in work. Letting out a long exhalation of breath, Theron grabbed a datapad and started to pull up the intel that had been gathered so far on the area surrounding the temple that held the weapon he had just learned about from the Imperial guard. He would need to use all of the information the man had given up to put together a solid plan for Nox to infiltrate the temple and disable the weapon. Nox. As soon as the Sith’s name passed through his head it became increasingly more difficult to concentrate on the glowing schematics and figures in front of him. Dropping the datapad onto the holomap, Theron let out a ragged sigh and leaned forward, planting both hands onto the workstation for support. Lost in thought, he stared out into the growing darkness, the glow from the datapad lighting up his neck and torso with a ghostly gleam.

Up until that point, he had resigned himself to the idea that no matter what was going on between him and the Dark Lord, it could never grow into anything, and that after the alliance ended, he’d never see her again and he’d just go back to throwing himself blindly at his work. Because of that, he’d been trying desperately to ignore the new and unfamiliar feelings that were settling in his gut. Contrary to what she had hoped to achieve from their argument, his mother had forced his hand, pushed him to accept that what he felt for Nox was more than just lust over the forbidden – and he was pretty sure that she felt it too. He’d heard stories about Sith appetites, and if sex was all she was looking for, they would have been fucking all along, but they hadn’t. He’d had plenty of work-related _liaisons_ throughout the years spent spying and working undercover for the SIS. But never one with an Imperial, a Sith no less, and never one he would be sorry to see come to an end. No, that wasn’t it - he _didn’t_ want it to come to an end.

_I_ _’m going to do something about that right now. I just have to find her._

Trotting down the stairs with newfound purpose, Theron reached the center of the ruins and paused, scanning the area for Nox. Through the shadows of the ruins, he caught a glimpse of white next to a pale hooded form. As he got closer he could see that the Nox and Wrath were accompanied only by Khem Val as they strolled casually through the ruins. Good. Taking a deep breath, Theron set his jaw in determination and summoned all of the resolve he could muster, making a bee line right for the pair of Sith.

Without taking his eyes off Nox, he quickly closed the distance between them, bringing both hands up to either side of her face, his lips finding hers in desperation. She froze momentarily in surprise, but then melted into the kiss, sighing into his mouth and twining her tongue with his, hands sliding up his chest to rest at the back of his neck. Not losing a step, Theron brought his hands up to her hood that was rubbing at his forehead and pushed it up and over her head, letting it fall down her back, expecting her to break the kiss. Much to his surprise, she didn’t, but instead pulled him closer, twining her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, teeth gently nipping at his lower lip.

As the world started to fall away, Theron was whipped back to reality by the gravelly sound of a throat being cleared. Loosening his hold on her waist, he pulled back and turned his head to see Khem Val standing to the side with his arms crossed over his chest, looking anywhere but at them. The white Twi’lek, however, was regarding them with a wide grin splitting her face, her one good eye sparkling in excitement, quite obviously enjoying the view.

Catching his breath, Theron realized that he had likely just overstepped his bounds and could have made a very dangerous mistake. He brought a hand up to scrub through his hair, resolve starting to waver, but when his eyes found hers, he saw the look in them, and it wasn’t one of anger. “Sorry, but I’m not apologizing for that,” he chuckled. “Um...so where are you spending the night?”

“The Wrath has invited me to join her on her ship...”

Stepping just a little too close to Nox, the Twi’lek flashed him a naughty little smirk and flipped her tchin over her shoulder, letting it fall against her friend.

“I don’t think so. You’re staying with me.”

Nox raised her brows in surprise at hearing his demand, but then smiled _that_ smile, a twinkle in her eye. “I must say, Theron, I’m thoroughly enjoying this side of you.” She reached up, running her fingers through the hair that had fallen over his forehead.

As if realizing that she appeared to be rather invisible at the moment, the Wrath shook her head, her lekku twitching back and forth in amusement. “So yeah, I’d _love_ to stay for dinner and a show, but I’m going to go see what Pierce is up to. C’mon, Khem. Looks like you’re bunking with us tonight.”

“Lord Wrath, would you be so kind as to find Lana and inform her that we’ll be meeting at 07:00 tomorrow to go over next steps?”

“Yes, sir,” she snickered, giving a very poor attempt at a Republic salute. As she walked away, she turned, eyeing Theron up and down, an appreciative smile on her face.

 


	11. Good for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron loves hot Force-user secks. ;)  
> Nox may have met her match in the battle of sexy-time wills.  
> Theron learns more about what makes Nox tick.  
> Theron lets his insecurities get the best of him.
> 
> Warning for completely consensual maybe-possibly rough adult sex. This is an extremely long sex scene...but it was their first time. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Yavin Four – Theron

There were a number of reasons why Theron chose to commandeer a small corner of the ruins for himself, rather than simply bunking in the Republic encampment. He was already well known for being a workaholic. The excuse of being close to the staging area was a given, right down to the point where it wouldn't have been completely unreasonable to imagine the agent sleeping under the holomap table, provided there was enough shelter to abate the regular nightly rains in the jungle. He also felt that he was setting an example, choosing to stay in the middle rather than picking sides, for the time being at least.

But the biggest reason? Privacy. Theron was used to solitary living, and the thought of sleeping in a barracks, sharing his personal space with more than a few other people...it just skeeved him right out. And perhaps there was a subconscious part of him that had anticipated – hoped – that he would need that privacy for other reasons, reasons involving a specific Sith who happened to be following behind him at that very moment. In fact, Theron couldn’t help feeling a bit proud of himself for his foresight as he led Nox through the darkness to the tiny one-room mobile structure that served as a place for him to retreat to when his body demanded sleep.

“I half-thought you were staying on Jakarro’s ship.”

The sound of the soft giggle behind him brought a smile to his face, as it had a bad habit of doing, even at the most inopportune of times. (It also had an equally bad habit of making him want to throttle something, but that was currently beside the point.) “Uh, no. Nobody would ever accuse me of being tidy, but that fur ball makes even me look like a neat freak.” He turned and grabbed Nox by the wrist, pulling her close, probably a little harder than he had to. “C’mon, it’s just up here.” Weaving between a few more columns, the pair reached a clearing behind the staging area. “I know it’s not much to look at, but at least it keeps the rain off what little gear I brought with me.”

“I’ve been to some of the worst backwaters in the galaxy. Have you ever been to Quesh? I have – you have to get inoculated before they’ll even let you on the ground.”

“I get your point,” he laughed. Keying open the door, he stepped into the almost total darkness with her in tow. “Lights – brightness level one.” As he keyed the door closed, the small area was lit with a dim artificial glow. “Not very romantic, but candles are in short supply in the jungle.” Turning, he saw that Nox was standing in the middle of the room, taking in her surroundings – several empty caf mugs near a stack of datapads, clothes thrown haphazardly into one corner, blaster cleaning supplies laid out on the single table next to a bottle of whiskey, and lastly, the very small cot set against the wall.

Following her gaze to what was supposed to pass as a bed, he sighed, realizing he'd forgotten that it was barely large enough for one, let alone two. He had intended to try and steal a larger one from one of the officers, but it had completely slipped his mind. Fuck. His nerves were threatening to get the best of him, and he started rummaging through the pile of clothes, looking for spare blankets to buy some time. “So yeah, the bed. If you don’t want to, um…you know…I can take the floor.” He threw a couple blankets down, spreading them out on the floor next to the cot.

“Theron, I don’t care about the bed.” As he straightened, she appeared next to him, catching him off-guard with the gentle touch of a set of knuckles grazing over the apple of his cheek. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be." Her eyes followed her own movements, and she turned her hand over at his jawline to run her fingers down the side of his neck, quite successfully sending a flush of color along with a healthy dose of gooseflesh to scatter...everywhere. “There is one thing I need to ask, however…is this your way of telling me that you wish to see me naked? I haven’t a thing to wear. I have no qualms about sleeping in the nude, but somehow I think that might prove rather distracting for you.”

He was so very thankful for her sense of humor. Darth Nox could be many things – intimidating, frustrating, infuriating, and even downright scary – and Theron wasn’t sure he would ever grow used to how quickly she could cycle between those things, which was actually something he quite liked about her, but there were a few constants he could always expect. The woman never felt anything half-way, and threaded underneath all of it was one of the driest senses of humor he’d ever encountered. When they’d first met, he could rarely tell when she was joking, which had served as a point of frustration for him, but in time he’d learned that she was playing off of his neuroses, sometimes deliberately trying to unbalance him, or in this case, calm his nerves.

He forced himself to swallow, an almost comically loud gulp that broke the silence floating between them and throughout the room, and his heart started to race at the mere thought of seeing her laid bare – and what he wanted to do about it. “Naked? Oh...oh, yes. There’s no doubt about that,” he managed to chuckle, sort of, reaching for her waist.

“Ah, so your invitation _did_ have an ulterior motive. I see we’ll be picking up where we left off then...” She smiled  _that_ smile, inclining her head to lightly brush her lips over his. Soft fingertips tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, and the tip of her tongue ran across his more than eager mouth, teasing him in all sorts of ways as another set of fingertips slid down over his chest, his torso...landing right on his belt. She was so not wasting any time, which was probably a good thing, considering his mind and body were both fighting to the death for control, leaving him stuck in a rather comical, and quite amateurish-looking lurch. There was a coy little giggle, thankfully interrupting his idiot thought-spiral, a quick tug, and she jerked the buckle open, pulling the leather strip free along with the pair of blasters holstered to it. “I don’t think you’ll be needing these."

She kissed him lightly again and started to circle around him, trailing the fingertips of her other hand around his waist while she passed. By then his heart was practically beating out of his chest, and he swallowed roughly again, turning to watch her as she sauntered to the desk a few feet behind him. She placed the belt near the bottles of cleaning oil and then reached a hand to the saber hilt on her hip and unclipped it, setting it carefully next to the blasters. “I was always more of a fan of Shesharilian vodka, myself,” she added, slowly running a finger down the neck of the nearby bottle of whiskey. How was it possible that she even made that simple gesture look sexy? He was in so much trouble. And he couldn't have been happier about it.

Theron followed the line of her index finger from the neck of the whiskey bottle all the way up to her shoulder blades and the delicate curve of her neck. She kept her back to him, turning her head just enough to be able to see him out of the corner of her eye...just enough to see that he was staring at her like a dumbstruck fool. Why was he just standing there? Anytime now...and...go! Nope, nothing. 

Nox smiled back at him, apparently amused at his lack of movement, and reached up to the shimmersilk band that held her hair tightly in place, letting it fall down her back in a mass of loose waves. That didn't help. Ever since he found out that she actually _had_ hair, he'd been daydreaming about what it looked like when it wasn't locked away under that hood of hers. He knew it was red, but seeing the flowing waves reaching down to her lower back, it was so much more. In the dim light, it appeared to shift from deep red to purple to even almost black, depending on where the light hit it.

Tossing the scrap of shimmersilk to the floor, she wasted no time in reaching her fingers to the midriff of the top half of her robes, peeling it up over her head in one swift movement, only to toss it down to the floor right next to the golden hair piece. He should've just gone to her...just _moved_ , but no, now she was casting her fingers through the silky strands, murmuring in pleasure at having her hair finally freed from the constrictions of the tight bun.

He'd been waiting for this moment for a year. Probably from the first instant he’d laid eyes on her on Manaan. Building it up in his head. Night and day. Now that it was here...why was he so nervous? Oh so nervous. Certainly not the guy who could charm the pants off even the most hard-to-get targets. Where the fuck did that guy go? And could he please come back?

Ugh, he couldn't take it anymore. His pants couldn't take it anymore either. Well, at least _that_ wasn't nervous. At all. Finally spurred into action by the desire eating through his...everything...Theron shook off his jacket and threw it to the blankets on the floor, followed quickly by his undershirt.

He closed the distance between them, snaking his arms around her midsection, burying his nose into the soft tresses against her neck. Pulling her tightly to his chest, he inhaled deeply, making a pleased sort of grumbly sigh as her unique scent washed over his senses. Yup, it was always the same. Every time she'd walked past him, or come near enough to him, it had haunted him, leaving him wanting more. Whenever he thought about it, he could picture rain falling in a dark wooded forest. A streak of lightning flashed through the air, and the smell of earth and wood mingled with the cool, clean rain and the sharp electricity. A picture of Dromund Kaas, her home world, or at least how she'd described it to him. He would never grow tired of breathing in that scent. It was haughty and aloof, and dare he say a tad bitchy (so not to her face), yet it was somehow also down to earth, with a bubbling undercurrent of raw passion and danger. It reminded him of everything he'd come to love about her. 

Theron held her in his arms, skin to skin at last. Their bodies were touching and their combined warmth was soaking into his torso, cutting the edge from the cool night air in the room. He could feel the taut muscles of her stomach, the dip of her navel under his palms. Her skin was so soft, but the pads of his fingers didn't miss the scattered margins of several scars, mostly small, a couple not so small. They'd faded almost imperceptibly into the pale, freckle-shot background, but the differences in texture were still there. Soft and smooth to puckered and back to smooth again, a lined ridge here, a touch of rough edge there, he could only imagine the things she'd been through. He wanted to run his lips over each and every one. All he needed was the time to do it.  

Swallowing his nerves in one last-ditch attempt to get a grip on himself (he wanted _someone_ to get a grip, that was for sure), he tentatively slid one arm up her torso to pull her tighter back against him, while the hand of the other arm traveled southwards, down over her abdomen to slip just past the waistline of her robes. She inclined her head to rest against his shoulder, his anxiety finally starting to fall away at the sound of the contented purr she made as she slid her hands down over his arms to thread their fingers together.

His breath caught almost embarrassingly in his throat when she started to guide his hand at her pelvis lower, leaving it to trace her own hand back up his arm to his neck. Through the corner of his eye, Theron watched her eyes flutter closed, watched as she chewed at her lower lip, waiting in anticipation for his more southerly fingers to reach their mark. She whimpered, the sheer sound of it shooting straight to his groin, and the more he teased her, the more he heard the most delightful little mewlings tumble from her lips. Arched as she was against him, with her backside teasing him just as much as his fingers were teasing her, there was no doubt she could feel just how excited he was. His pants were indeed becoming increasingly tight and uncomfortable in that general area. 

He withdrew his hand, chuckling at the resultant frustrated grumble made against his cheek, and spun her around to face him. It took her a moment, but when she finally cracked her eyes open and focused enough to pay attention to what she was seeing in front of her, her mouth popped open in surprise. She ran a hand over his chest to his shoulder and down his left arm, eyes taking in the extensive ink work he’d had commissioned over the years to commemorate important points in his past, from the loss of Master Zho to the destruction of the Ascendant Spear and beyond. What had previously started out small now covered his entire arm, extending up over his shoulder to his chest and scapula. It had become a ritual of sorts to add to the piece after every campaign, the most recent being an image of a Republic walker on the sands of Korriban. Theron had to wonder what he’d add after everything with Revan, and if he’d finally have a chance to add something that meant as much to him as the first piece he’d ever gotten.

“Theron, it’s beautiful.”

“Ask me nicely – I might tell you about it sometime,” he laughed, dipping his head to brush his lips over hers. 

Theron watched desire darken her emerald gaze, captivated by the feral arousal that shot through the green depths. Ringed by a band of molten gold, those eyes never ceased to pull at his very existence. He could so easily get lost in them and never find his way back. Nor would he want to.

Unable to resist the grin that washed over his features, he went down to one knee before her, wrapping an arm around her back to pull her firmly to him. His tongue flicked against first one nipple, then the other, and he felt her go rigid in his hands, gasping and hissing against him when he added his teeth to the mix. He laved a wet, tongue-filled grumble into her skin, delighting in the sensation of her fingers carding through his hair as he took his nipping, nuzzling, kissing journey lower, traveling down over her torso.

When he reached the waistline of her robes, he looked up at her through his lashes, holding her gaze with a distinctly naughty crook to his lip, and hooked his fingers into the top edge of her skirt, peeling the dark fabric down until it fell loose to the floor. He slid his hands back up the outside of her thighs, coming up to hug her bottom, returning his wandering mouth to where it left off, and continued making laving passes lower, nuzzling right into the cleft between her thighs with his tongue, that same unique scent she carried all the more powerful and intoxicating to him. And was that...a piece of jewelry? He'd thought he felt something with his fingers...

Almost immediately though, the fingertips running through his hair stilled and moved to the sides of his head, urging him back upwards.

As Theron got back to his feet, a flicker of disappointment ran through him, he'd really wanted to eat her out in the worst of ways (next time, there would be a next time if he had any say in the matter), but it was quickly forgotten when she surprised him with a rather aggressive lip maneuver. Capturing his lower lip between her teeth, she slowly raked the nails of one hand down his chest and over the muscles of his stomach, her lips curling into a satisfied grin at the strangled moan that resonated in his throat. The hand tugged open the top of his pants and slid down his pelvis to the base of his length, already quite hard and uncomfortable from being cramped up in such a state. All of the fires in his gut exploded into one big inferno when he felt her touch him. He sighed against her mouth, all anxious desperation, and as she encircled her fingers around him to free him from the constrictions of his pants, he found himself tugging his lip free of her restraint to bite her right back.

Squeezing her hand lightly around him, she stroked once. Twice. A little more pressure. Three times. And that was all he needed. He'd been ready to go well before this. He dug his fingers into her backside, starting to shuffle backwards towards the blankets on the floor, pulling her with him as she continued her painfully teasing, stroking, and petting. Fighting against every fiber of his being, Theron willed himself to pull her hand free and pushed her down to the floor, watching her settle on to the blankets.

“Wait,” he murmured as she sat up to unlace her boots. Black leather tightly laced all the way up over her calves, the thought of having them wrapped around him was too much to resist. They were completely practical for her purposes, but holy fuck were they sexy. And he so did not care that they probably had mud on them. And blood. “Those are staying on for now.”

Nox quirked her brows up at him in self-satisfied curiosity, lounging back on her elbows to watch him hurriedly kick off his boots and pants, eyes hungrily taking in what she had felt with her hand only moments before. Kneeling between her calves, Theron hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled, dragging her forward so that he could lean over her, hands planted on either side of her head. This was it. Do or die. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted, dipping in to brush the back of a hand over her unscarred cheek, his mouth finding hers as he reached over to his jacket crumpled in a pile nearby, sliding it under her head for support. “Spent so much time fighting it…” He nuzzled into her neck, taking delight in the knowledge that her pulse was racing just as fast as his was, worrying his teeth against the soft skin as he felt her fingertips ghost up his sides to get lost again in his hair.

He slid his hand down her torso, down between her breasts, down over the smooth toned muscles of her stomach and lower, tracing through soft curls to feel the slick wetness of her arousal. And indeed, there was a silver barbell there. He'd come across a few in his travels and yeah, it was fucking hot. Especially on her. He could have fun with that.

She whimpered, digging her nails into his scalp as he slid two fingers past the outer folds of her sex and into the taut heat of her core, curling them upwards with each tempting, petting, teasing stroke. It didn't take him long to realize that it wouldn't have been difficult to bring her to climax with just his fingers and a little bit of teeth nibbling at her neck. He could make himself wait. And it was totally worth the front-row seat, feeling how she tightened herself around his fingers, hearing her throaty gasp of breath when he pushed a knee forward to force her legs further apart, giving him better access while also giving him room to position himself right where he wanted to be.

Adding his thumb to the rotation, he started making circular passes against her clit on the outside, and consequently the piece of jewelry, while his fingers continued to tempt and stroke from the inside, quickly shooting her to the point of no return. She started to tense, her back arching against the floor, and just as her insides began to flutter, right as she cried out at her peak, Theron pulled his fingers away and quickly drove himself into her, right up to the hilt. All caution thrown entirely to the wind, from one resolve-shattering second bleeding directly into to the next. The instant fulfillment of having him, rather than his fingers, inside of her right at the precipice pushed her completely over the edge, missing it entirely, and slingshot her off somewhere into the void, if the wildly animalistic sound that escaped her throat was any indicator. And he was able to feel everything. Every staggering, gasping, eye-popping wave of it. And it almost pushed him right over in the process. Shit.

Every muscle in his body was fighting him. Screaming at him for release. Theron held himself still above her, listening to her breathing slow, concentrating on her heartbeat as they rode out the waves of her orgasm together. He had to be so careful. He couldn't even think about the fact that he'd finally stopped fighting against what he'd been trying and failing to resist for the past year, that he'd finally given in. That he was at last getting what he'd always wanted, to be completely wrapped up inside the person he was pretty sure he'd gone and fallen in love with, even if it was despite his better judgement. He'd even fully intended to make a very sexy grand production out of licking her off of his fingers, making her watch. But, nope. He couldn't think about any of that, lest he go tipping right over to spiral off into the void like she just had.

That little trick...may have been a mistake, a move better left for later times when he wasn't so high on just the idea of being together. And that wasn't how he wanted their first time to end, even though he was fairly confident he'd have been ready to go again rather quickly anyways. He wasn't a kid anymore, but when he felt like this...this was just different.

Before long, Theron felt Nox grow impatient beneath him, nudging his cheek with her nose to pull him into a kiss. She slid her tongue against his, moaning into his mouth, and brought a booted leg up to rest on his ass, applying pressure in an attempt to get him to move again before he was ready. He found it fairly amusing, fighting against her growing insistence, until she giggled, tightening herself almost cruelly around him, to the point where he thought he was going to lose it again. She missed nothing, that naughty little Sith, and she was playing dirty. Double shit.

Catching her lower lip between his teeth, he pinned her hips with a single hard thrust, holding himself immobile again until she loosened her hold on him, their eyes narrowed on each other in a very intimate battle of wills. She relented, apparently giving him that particular round, which bolstered his confidence a bit, giving him the push he needed. He had to keep things slow. Controlled. Build up to it and it would be fine. If all else failed, he could try thinking about...something unpleasant, like Marr, or Khem...or Marr and Khem...eww. Okay, that was too much. Throw that one out the window and keep going.

Theron started out slow, taking cautiously long, drawn-out strokes, and pushed the palms of his hands flat against the floor, holding himself up over her to gain more leverage. She matched his rhythm, rocking her hips up to meet his at each take, letting her fingertips trace a grazing path over the skin of his back and shoulders. Having her hands roving over his body like that, mapping the outlines of the inked artwork on his arm, feeling her nails dig into the muscled curve of his backside to drift up either side of his spine, the sensation was almost indescribable.

He had no idea it could feel like this. He was a spy - he got around. It came with the territory. But nobody had ever lit a fire in his gut like this. All of the restless nights spent yearning for Nox over the past year couldn’t have prepared him for the reality. It seemed like every emotion possible was blazing through him all at the same time, and he felt like he would come flying apart at the seams. He'd spent so long alone, to finally feel like he belonged, even if it was in the arms of the enemy...he didn't want it to end. He was a different person when he was with her. He was someone who could finally want something that was his alone, someone who could say ‘fuck it’ to obligation and protocol. When they were together, he didn’t care that she was a leader of the Dark Council and that he was a Republic spy who just so happened to be the son of the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. Those facts just became blurred noise in the background. 

Startled out of his reverie, Theron was surprised to feel Nox open herself up to the Force. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to stand up as the air around them began to almost crackle with a sort of pent-up energy. He'd seen her summon lighting plenty of times in the past, and had experienced that same tingle in the air when she did it, but this was different. More focused, maybe. It was something he'd never be able to understand, not fully. And at any other time, he might have allowed himself the indulgence of getting caught up in a wave of resentment, but not now. Most definitely not now. And not ever, with her. Besides, all it took was one glance at the woman beneath him and all was quite forgotten.

Theron watched her bite down on the side of her lower lip, heard her choke back a desperate little mewl, and he nearly lost it when she squeezed herself around him again, trying to wrest away control of the pace he'd set. She was relentless, and it was almost unbearable. Triple shit. 

It was all over. He was going to come and nothing was going to stop that train, not even the last resort of pulling that disturbing image back out of the depths of whatever hell it had come from. Scrunching his eyes shut, Theron choked out a pained, almost-sob of defeat, readying himself to go skittering off into the ether, but just as he felt himself start to let go, he rather abruptly found that something was holding him back right at the precipice, like an invisible barrier he couldn't find a way around, and it wasn't one of his own making. Following along at her stolen pace, he kept pushing at the wall, certain that each thrust was sure to be his last. But he was denied such sweet release, time and again.

What was _this_? What was she doing to him? And did he like it? 

Not quite sure yet how to react, he managed to grunt out a rather poignant and quite audible 'fuck' into the space between them. He might have said it more than once, he really couldn't have been sure. He may have said other stuff too, and hopefully no patrols were wandering around outside, because yeah, they'd have gotten an earful. 

Theron heard another demented little giggle beneath him, felt her nails dig in to bite at the skin of his biceps. All the last shreds of his willpower winked out of existence, completely forgotten, when those same nails traveled up either side of his neck, tangling into his hair once again. Gripping. Tugging. Pulling his face down to hers. He thought he was going to explode. Implode. Fly apart at the seams, leaving nothing but a smoldering pile of goo. It was...kind of awesome. Almost cruel, but in such an awesome way.

Fuck yeah, he liked it. He fucking loved it. 

And it let him concentrate on the one thing he wanted to - her.

He leaned back, gripping her roughly at the hip to shift her beneath him for a better angle, then pushed forward again, savoring every hot, slippery inch, permitting himself the justly-earned smirk at the sound of her stifled gasps as he rushed to meet her again and again, the new angle allowing him to grind her hips into the floor with each movement.

Running his hand up her leg at his side, he hooked his fingers behind the knee and wrapped it around his waist, giving her cue to lock her ankles together behind him. Those boots started biting into his ass and the force of each stroke was enough so that he imagined they would have eventually ended up on the other side of the room if she weren't held in place by those fucking legs. He was still at her mercy, still wavering right at the edge of release. Her very willing captive, allowed to walk the thin line directly next to orgasmic bliss, but never quite getting there. He'd never felt anything quite like it, the raw intensity, and he had to wonder if this was a normal thing for Force users, or if this was a 'Nox' thing, or if it was because she knew he'd had himself so worked up over this moment that it would have been over pretty much before it got started anyways...and then he realized that he was rambling to himself.

She was squeezing tighter and tighter. Everything was tighter...her legs wrapped around his waist, the buckles and lacing of her boots biting into the meat of his ass, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back, her white-hot core constricting around his length like a serpent. Everything. He thanked the stars for sexually inventive Force users, because he would have come a thousand times over already. Maybe it was just Sith. Not so much Jedi. He didn't really care at the moment because it felt so good it almost hurt. His thrusts were becoming more and more ragged, and he was having trouble catching his breath. 

He snaked a hand down between them to find that fun little barbell with his fingers, in this case 'x' quite marking the spot, and he was probably just a bit too proud of himself to feel her how her body reacted to each swirling stroke. She was getting close. So close, in fact, that when he pinched at the piece of metal, tugging it just so, she choked back a pathetic little whimper, digging her nails mercilessly into his flesh. He hissed, working through the exquisite pain, and sunk his teeth into the nape of her neck, pinning her hips roughly to the floor, again thankful to be held back from his own release because that would most definitely have been it. Yet again. He knew he was bleeding and he absolutely could not have cared less.

Teeth still at her neck, his fingers slipped and slid against her, teasing, coaxing, touching. He could feel her outside walls spread around him and he thrust hard against her one more time, pinching and tugging with his fingers and increasing the pressure at her neck until she was forcefully shoved over the edge, coming undone around him, bucking and gasping...finally releasing the charge she'd been holding in a wave around them that nearly stole the breath right out of his lungs. And it was at that moment, that he knew he'd been set free, meant to fall into oblivion with her.

She'd kept him at the brink for so long, and he wanted to come so badly, be put out of his delicious misery, but he didn't want it to end. Not yet. How he managed to hold out after she'd freed him, feeling her quiver and spasm around him again, he didn't know. Chalk it up to blunt determination.

He released his hold on her neck, his tongue laving relief against the swollen, reddened skin. She'd most certainly have a pretty good bruise there in the morning, but she seemed to care about it as much as he cared about all the scratches marking up his own skin. He kept up with the teasing ministrations from his fingers, forcing her to ride through the waves of her climax, and slowed his pace down to a near-stop in an effort to regain some amount of self-control, hopefully ratcheting himself back down to a 'mere mortal' level of arousal. Whatever the fuck she'd done to him, he hoped it wasn't a one-time thing.

She mewled softly in desperation into his mouth, squirming beneath him. This was his chance to make up for his earlier near-fumble. No, he could admit it, it was definitely a fumble.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, pulling his fingers away and back up between them. Eyes full of mischief, he held himself over her with his other hand, watching with unwavering interest for her reaction as he brought those same fingers to his lips and slowly began to lick them clean. Right in front of her. He'd been expecting a reaction, yes, but he was so not expecting her to lift her head and eagerly meet him in the middle, sliding her tongue right along with his. Tasting her first from his fingers and then, fuck, right from her own mouth...there were no words. All but forgotten, the hand was moved back to the blankets for support as he poured himself into taking in everything her mouth had to offer. 

"What I want?" She tilted her head slightly to the side, yanking his ear down to her lips by a good chunk of his hair. "I want you to fuck me, Theron. Hard."

Holy-fuck. He was pretty sure he'd had dreams of those words. No, not pretty sure. He most certainly had had dreams of those particular words. Day dreams. Night dreams. Shower dreams. Watching-her-pace-back-and-forth-in-front-of-him dreams. Her breath was hot on his neck and the sound of her voice was low and feral...and any lack of 'attention' he'd felt while trying to gain the upper hand over his earlier state of hyper-arousal was gone, as soon as those words hit him like a ton of bricks. His breath died out in his throat and he felt himself twitch involuntarily, wondering about what sort of limits she had, and then twitched again at the prospect of finding out just what those limits were while also pushing at his own. He'd never really been with one person long enough to truly explore them. 

"Stars, yes..." It wasn't much of a response, but it was all he could muster. He was all too happy to comply, wanting nothing more than to please her. He just hoped he could hold out long enough. Could give her enough of what she wanted, what they both wanted.

Encouraged at only finding anticipation and excitement in the gold-shot green depths of her gaze, he sat back a bit, reaching behind himself to untangle her legs from around his waist. He rolled her hips forward, gathering her folded knees inside the circumference of his arms to rest against his sides, essentially putting her in a relaxed fetal position below him. Taking delight in her apparent level of flexibility (of course she was flexible, he'd seen her moves on the battlefield), he leaned over her, supporting his weight with his palms flat against the floor, giving himself all the leverage he needed. The further forward he went, the more her hips were forced to roll with him. Perfect.

Fighting against his first instinct, which was to just take her there and then for his own end, he felt the muscles of his shoulders tense up almost painfully as he slowly sunk himself further into her slickened warmth, seating himself as deeply as he could go. He pulled back, almost all the way out, and pushed forward again tentatively, testing the waters, so to speak. She moaned beneath him, a long, drawn-out purr, and that was all he needed to hear. Biting back on a hiss, he started off slow, solid...almost pulling out at one end, only to bottom out at the other. He let the intensity of his thrusts build with each bone-deep stroke, build to the point that he was sure they'd both still be feeling them later, til they were both finding it distinctly hard to breathe, til he thought his head was going to pop off and go rolling across the floor.

Burying his face in her neck, he began counting in his head...nerfs...krak'jya cats...krak'jya cats hunting herds of nerfs...thinking about what the sun would look like on her hair, the humming thrum of her lightsaber as it cut through the swaths of Revanites in her search to rescue him on Rishi. Anything other than the hottest, most intense pleasure he'd ever felt in his life. Ever. Fuck. Double and triple fuck. 

He felt her throw her head back as he fucked her, trying to catch her breath around each sad, little gasp, her hands clutched around his neck and shoulder, holding herself tightly to him as they both became helplessly overwhelmed with the sensation of having him so deep inside her.

But, before long, thankfully, maybe not so thankfully, Theron felt her muscles tighten even more, starting to quiver around him. Summoning every drop of resolve he had left, he grunted and rolled her hips forward further, burying himself even deeper, her cries taking on a fevered pitch each time their hips snapped together. He was right at the precipice - he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer, but he really wanted to bring her to the peak again first. Just a little longer. Which was easier said than done. She was so tight and so wet that he just couldn't hold on. But he had one last trick up his sleeve. Maybe she liked being told what to do. She was the boss of pretty much everything on her side of the galaxy (stars, that was so fucking hot), but they were alone, so who knew. It was worth a shot. 

“ _I want you to come for me,_ ” he breathed, caressing his cheek to hers. It was more like a determined sort of plea, but it did the job. Her body shuddered at the lowered timbre of his voice, and she let out one final spine-shattering cry to the ceiling, her fingers biting into his skin as she found her third release, the waves of her orgasm clamping down around him, finally sending him rocketing over the edge to the music of his name spilling forth from her lips. It was one of the greatest sounds he'd ever heard in his life, if not the greatest. Utterly lost in the moment, he bit back a strangled growl, coming undone inside of her, the only cognitive thought he could muster being the same one he'd had numerous times of late. The one where he couldn't think of any time before meeting Darth Nox where he had ever been so happy.

As the last waves of her release subsided, Theron did his best to hold himself steady, arms threatening to buckle underneath him in his thoroughly exhausted state, his heart feeling like it would pound out of his chest. He felt her wrap her arms and legs around him, inviting him to let her support his weight as she cradled his head against her neck, running her fingers through his wet, matted hair.

“Holy fffuck,” he sighed, concentrating on the strong pulse in her neck, his own heart rate slowing to match.

She made an amused sort of huffing sound, tip-toeing her fingertips down his back, sending tickling shivers down his spine. “That would be putting it mildly. That was...yeah...”

Lifting his heavy head, Theron smiled, reaching up to brush away a few stray hairs from her dampened brow. He briefly cast his lips over hers and then rolled, putting himself onto his back, taking her along for the ride to settle herself cradled at his right side, the immediate rush of cool breeze over his sweat-soaked skin a welcome sensation. Sighing, Nox brought her hand up, running her fingers through the smattering of hair on his chest.  

The couple lay in silence, listening to the sounds of nature just outside, sleep quickly rushing to take them. Sleep was something that Theron didn’t get much of, and he should have let it come, but he also didn’t want the night to end; he would have been perfectly content to lay there with her forever, letting the galaxy and the war pass them both by. Feeling her breathing start to slow, Theron shifted himself, lightly jostling her on purpose, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “I really am sorry about the bed...” Stars, he was a moron.

“Hmm?” She blinked sleepily, lifting her head slightly from where it rested against his side. “Oh, you should have seen the accommodations we had on Korriban – we might as well have slept on stone blocks. And then before that there was…” Her eyes lost their focus for a moment, before hardening into a distant glare. “Never mind."

Theron hadn’t intended to bring up painful memories, but while she was on that thought track, there was something that he desperately wanted to know. “Can I ask you something? It’s been bugging me for a while now.” Squeezing the arm that held her to him, he stretched his neck to place a kiss on the top of her head, his tattooed left arm reaching for the hand at his chest.

“That depends,” she replied with a smirk, her Sithy roller coaster of emotions already having turned in a different direction. He would have to choose his words carefully.

“Why didn't you just run away the first chance you got? I mean before Korriban…or after even, when you had your own ship. I mean, the Jedi would have found you, taken you in in a heartbeat."

Letting out a heavy breath, Nox shifted herself into a more comfortable position to look him directly in the eye. "It’s difficult to explain, but I will do my best.” She lowered her gaze to his hand on hers, threading their fingers together. “I was raised on Dromund Kaas; I don’t know if I was born there, but it’s all I can remember. Slaves aren’t privy to unbiased information – all we knew was what we were told, and what little we were told about Jedi and the Republic was never good.” She paused, considering her next words. “Besides, where would I have gone? How would I have known where to go? And then after Korriban, I was a different person – I had to be. When my Master gave me my ship and I started to see the galaxy, I was overwhelmed. I saw atrocities...on both sides. No system is without flaws, not even your Jedi. Many I have met were so unwilling to think for themselves, they couldn’t see what was right in front of them.” She began lazily tracing her fingers along his forearm, outlining the edges of the designs on his sleeve. “You see, I love the Empire, Theron. If I had run away, I would have been abandoning my people. I was filled with anger for much of my life, and I still am at times, but along the way I learned that I could use my circumstance to help change the Empire from within, to make it stronger. I don’t know if that’s the answer you were looking for,” she paused, quirking her lips into a lopsided smile. “Not all Imperials are scum, just like not all from the Republic are dogs.”

“But I like dogs," he mused, trying to bring some levity to the conversation.

“Well, I’ve always been more of a cat person.”

“So that’s what the war is about? I’ve always wondered.”

“Of course. Was there ever any question?” She reached up to run her thumb down over his lower lip, a sparkle in her eye. “Besides, I don’t think Master Satele would appreciate her son being with a Jedi, so you should be thankful I didn’t end up on your side. I'm sure the idea of her son being with a Sith is no better, or a different kind of bad, but at least I’m allowed to have _entanglements_.”

Theron laughed, a full-out guffaw. “Ha! She's already given me an ultimatum - she’s the biggest hypocrite of them all.” He made a wide gesture, pointing to himself. “Haven’t you noticed she’s the definition of ‘do as I say, not as I do’?”

“Nice try, but I’m not touching that one,” she chuckled, pulling his mouth to her lips.

In reality, he totally understood where Nox was coming from. It was the easy way out to just dump everything into neat little categories of ‘black’ and ‘white’ and go through life dealing in absolutes. It was something most Jedi were guilty of, especially his mother. However, life didn’t work that way, at least not in the real world. Out in the real world, Theron had learned that most people lived in the grey.

“It’s my turn to ask you a question. Do you _ever_ sleep?” she teased, suppressing a yawn. “Where are you from? Coruscant?”

“Honestly, I can say I’m from all over. I do have an apartment on Coruscant, but I haven’t been there in over a year, so there ya go. What about you? Where do you call ‘home,’ I mean, other than when you’re in the arms of a smooth-talking spy?”

“When I ascended to the Dark Council, I was given chambers on both Korriban and in the Imperial Citadel on Dromund Kaas, but..."

“They’re not ‘home’?”

“Precisely. Everything I care about is on the _Phoenix_ …” As she paused, considering the weight of her next words, Theron’s mind started to race, going in all sorts of bad directions, sure his eyes visibly showed his train of thought. His insecurities starting to get the best of him, things suddenly started to click into place – how she had sent the Phoenix away as soon as she had landed on Yavin Four. Oh.

“Theron, it’s not what you think.”

He sat up, staring blankly at the wall, jealousy burning a hole in his gut. “Oh? And what is it that I think?”

“I believe it’s quite obvious by the way you’re acting.” She sat up next to and slightly behind him, wrapping an arm around his far shoulder, resting her chin on the other. Feeling her touch, Theron flinched in an attempt to push her away, but she persisted. “Please, let me explain. I care about Khem Val. I care about Ashara. I care about the eccentric little Reclamations officer who has taken up residence in my ship’s cargo bay – who I believe you would quite like by the way – and yes, there is another I care about. I will give you the same courtesy I have given him – I will never lie to you. Ask whatever you wish.” Feeling the tension running through his body, her hand started to massage his shoulder, moving up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Do you love him?”

Theron waited anxiously for her to respond, his heart starting to race once again. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to ask such a question of her, she owed no declaration to him. But he had to know.

“I...I d-..." She let out a frustrated huff, pausing for a moment to collect her words. "I...no. I don't know...I've never really given any thought to it.” 

He turned his head to the side, finally looking at her out of the corner of his eye, brows quirked in question. “And me? I’m a big boy – you can tell me if there’s nothing here and this is just sex. Great sex. The best sex I’ve ever had sex,” he added with a half-hearted laugh, attempting to deflect the nervous dread that had seeped into his stomach. He was genuinely afraid of what her answer would be to his next question. “Are you…using me? I mean, it would be a new notch on my belt to say that I had been used for sex, but-“

“Theron, you didn’t let me finish my original statement,” she sighed. “If you had, I would have gone on to say that everything I care about is on the _Phoenix_ …or right here.” She slid her arm around his side, placing the palm of her hand flat against his chest, the other continuing to massage at his neck. “You’ve awakened feelings in me that I thought I could never have, and as a Sith, should never have. My life is…complicated. Love for us is dangerous, a weakness to be exploited. Stars, Kira’s husband tried to kill her – for which you will never tell her that I told you – but I hope that puts things a bit into perspective. I spent so long trying to push those feelings away, to protect the both of us. But, when you were taken, I realized that I would have torn the world apart to find you.”

And there it was. Just as he had spent the better part of the past year trying to ignore the growing feelings he had for her, she had been doing the very same thing. Maybe it would have been better if they had both been successful in ignoring them. It certainly would have made things so much easier. A flicker of jealousy still burned in his gut at knowing that there was another who had her attentions, but who was he to hold that against her? She’d been honest with him, and they’d both spent the past year assuming they’d never see each other again after this clusterfuck was over. He’d just hoped…he didn’t know what he hoped.

“I…don’t know what to say.” He leaned his head to the side, a glimmer of sadness passing over his features as he closed his eyes, brushing his forehead with hers. “What are we gonna do?” He reached up to clutch at the hand over his heart with his own, already knowing the answer to the question - he just didn't want to admit it. 

“We’ll do what we must.” She paused, softening her tone. “Theron, I’ll understand if you want me to leave.” She shifted, making to get to her feet. “It would probably be easier for the both-“

Theron grabbed her wrist, yanking her back down to his lap, drinking down her gasp of surprise with his tongue as he covered her mouth with his. He held her tightly to him, twining his hands through her hair, enjoying the way the silky strands slid through his fingers, the urgency of his need to be close to her starting to take over. Responding to his touch, she whimpered into his mouth as she pushed down on his shoulders, giving herself enough leverage to wrap her legs around him.

“So I guess you _don’t_ sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And holy shit Theron has tattoos...I'm not sorry, not even a little. There's nothing sexier than a man with full sleeves... *drools* There will be more talk of the tattoos and further details on them down the road.  
> Note on Nox's scent - it's Chanel No. 5
> 
> "Good for You"  
> Selena Gomez as covered by Halocene
> 
> I'm on my 14 carats  
> I'm 14 carat  
> Doing it up like Midas, mhm  
> Now you say I gotta touch  
> So good, so good  
> Make you never wanna leave  
> So don't, so don't
> 
> Gonna wear that dress you like, skin-tight  
> Do my hair up real, real nice  
> And syncopate my skin to your heart beating
> 
> 'Cause I just wanna look good for you, good for you, uh-huh  
> I just wanna look good for you, good for you, uh-huh  
> Let me show you how proud I am to be yours  
> Leave this dress a mess on the floor  
> And still look good for you, good for you, uh-huh
> 
> I'm in my marquise diamonds  
> I'm a marquise diamond  
> Could even make that Tiffany jealous, mhm  
> You say I give it to you hard  
> So bad, so bad  
> Make you never wanna leave  
> I won't, I won't
> 
> Gonna wear that dress you like, skin-tight  
> Do my hair up real, real nice  
> And syncopate my skin to how you're breathing
> 
> 'Cause I just wanna look good for you, good for you, uh-huh  
> I just wanna look good for you, good for you, uh-huh  
> Let me show you how proud I am to be yours  
> Leave this dress a mess on the floor  
> And still look good for you, good for you,
> 
> Uh-huh, uh-huh, ah...  
> Uh-huh, uh-huh, ah, mhm...
> 
> Trust me, I can take you there  
> Trust me, I can take you there  
> Trust me, I, trust me, I, trust me, I


	12. Radioactive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron's all about the kissies.  
> Apparently morning breath doesn't exist in a galaxy far, far away. Maybe if both parties have dragon breath, they cancel each other out? :P  
> Nox tries to have a serious conversation with a very naked Theron.  
> We're almost done with Yavin Four!
> 
> More sexy times! Next chapter too...but then that will be it for smut for a couple chapters I think. I need a break, haha. 
> 
> My theme for this one is "Radioactive" by Sofia Karlberg, an amazing slow cover of the Imagine Dragons original.

Yavin Four – Nox

Nox listened to the sound of the slow, regular breaths at the back of her neck, using them as a counterpoint to meditate on her otherwise roiling emotions. When she had tried to leave before, Theron had given himself to her with such desperation, she didn’t need the Force to see how much stress the man was under. Afterwards, he had practically passed out from sheer physical and emotional exhaustion, sleep taking him almost immediately as he pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her where they lay on the floor.

In the short time she had spent on Yavin Four, two things had become abundantly clear. One – despite all of the warnings she’d been given, she was quickly falling for the Republic spy, and two – those feelings had become a liability for the both of them, and she would never forgive herself if he were to come to harm because of her. To put it bluntly, she shouldn’t have been there. Oh, she wanted to be, there was no doubt about that, but she should have never allowed herself to give in to weakness. What could possibly come from their dalliance other than pain? Theron had said that the Grand Master had already given him an ultimatum, and yet he still pursued her. No, she would not let him ruin his life for her. She would have to have strength enough for the both of them. If she were to leave in the night, Theron would be hurt, but he was a professional – he would finish their work together, and he would come to understand, in time. Love was just not in the cards for her. It was too dangerous.

Very carefully, Nox disentangled herself from the spy’s arms, pausing each time the soft snuffles behind her faltered. If he were anybody else, she would have been able to use the Force to soothe his mind into a steady sleep, however she had learned very early on that Theron’s mind was exceptionally strong, even without the enhancement from his implants. Not wanting to risk disturbing him by even attempting to touch his mind, she was finally able to roll herself onto her stomach and shimmy her way out from under the weight of the arm that he had draped over her side.

Getting to her feet, Nox summoned the Force to shroud herself in shadow, muffling the movement of her boots on the floor as she made her way to the refresher, collecting her garments strewn about the room as she went. She quickly cleaned herself up and got dressed, deciding it was best to make a quick getaway and wait to use the sonic on Kira’s ship rather than risk waking him. As she tiptoed out of the refresher, still shrouded in shadow, she paused to pick up her saber hilt, the glaringly obvious mistake of glancing over at the sleeping form not occurring to her until it was too late.

He looked so…happy. Still in the position she had left him, the spy slept soundly on his side, tattooed arm outstretched to the blanket where she had snuck out from under it. All of his cares appeared to have washed away as he slept, like he was finally able to relax, breaths coming in soft, even snuffles into the arm that supported his head. She needed to leave – but she couldn’t; every time she tried to take a step towards the door, her muscles refused to move. Fuck. Only minutes before, she had been so sure she could do it, that he would understand, but now she didn’t want to think about what he would do if he were to wake up and find himself alone. No, thinking on it further, she realized that running away wasn’t the answer.

Resigned to the fact that she was already in this mess, she made the decision that she had to see it through. She wouldn’t skulk away like a coward – she would have to talk to him, and hope that she had the willpower to stay strong when she did. Sighing, she located Theron’s pile of clothes and scrounged around for an undershirt to wear, then went back into the refresher, determined to enjoy the massaging tingle of the sonic. What she really needed was a scalding hot shower, with actual water, or perhaps a freezing cold one.  

Once she was satisfied that the dirt and grime from the previous day had been sufficiently melted away, Nox picked up the undershirt she had borrowed. Bringing the soft material to her nose, she inhaled deeply and let the spy's scent wash over her senses, finding that it helped to soothe her raw nerves. She padded out of the refresher, pulling the shirt over her head, and manually keyed off the dimmed lights before making her way back to the blankets on the floor. As she bunched up Theron’s jacket for a pillow and snuggled back under his arm, long hair carefully pulled forward so as to stay out of the way, the spy let out a contented sigh, pulling her to him and nuzzling his nose up against her ear. Timing her breaths to his, it did not take long for sleep to find her.

\---------------

Between the jacket bunched up between her head and forearm, the borrowed undershirt that she wore, and Theron’s arm around her waist, Nox woke completely relaxed, perhaps the most relaxed she’d ever felt. Face resplendent with a lazy smile, she filled her lungs with the spy’s intoxicating scent, cracking her eyes open to see the small room they shared lit by the slight glow of early dawn. She shifted to fit in a bit of a stretch, the arm around her tightening, lips brushing at the back of her neck indicating that the handsome man at her back was indeed already awake. Sighing in contentment, she continued her stretch, arching her body into his with a feline grace, closing her eyes in pleasure as she tensed her muscles all the way down to her toes. “Hmmm, how long have you been awake?”

“A while.” Theron propped himself up on one elbow, goosebumps blooming over her skin as his fingertips passed over her stomach to settle on her outer thigh. “Stars, who knew a baggy old tee could be so fucking sexy?” he chuckled, pushing the hem of the shirt up over her hip, fingers digging into her skin to pull her backside to him. Clearly he’d been patiently waiting for her to wake, keeping himself busy with all sorts of naughty images dancing through his head.

“As much as I’d like to lie here all day with you-“

“We have some time yet.” He nipped at her shoulder through the fabric of the undershirt, dragging the hem even further up her side. “Besides, I have no intention of just lying here...” Feeling him push himself up against her, Nox bit into her lower lip, suppressing a whimper as he slid his hand down to her knee and pushed it forward to the floor, allowing her to feel his already hard length bump up against her.

“My my, you don’t waste any time, do you?”

“You have no idea.” Teeth lightly grazing at her ear, he dragged his hand up her outer thigh and over the curve of her ass, fingers leaving light trails in the soft flesh from the pressure of his touch.

“Theron, we need to talk about-“

“I know, just…not right now, okay?”

The slightly panicked edge to the spy’s voice hit her like a dagger to the gut. If he didn’t want to talk right then, so be it, but sooner or later, they were going to have to face reality. The nagging voice in the back of her head told her that she should stop things right there and leave, rip off the bandage and be done with it, but just as she had done a few hours prior, she couldn’t. The way he made her feel, both emotionally and physically, the sensation of his hands and body on hers, even the dull ache she felt deep in her gut, a delicious reminder of their previous night’s exertions, all served to melt her resolve. Theron was different from any man she’d ever met, including Andronikos. While the pirate cared for her because of what she was, and there was no doubt in her mind that he _did_ genuinely care for her, Theron appeared to care for her in spite of it. Without even trying, he had changed her, and it would be difficult to go back to her old life, as it was, after they parted ways.

Nik would always be there...that she knew...if only there was a way...

She sighed, admitting defeat, and twisted her upper body, curling a hand under his chin to brush a light kiss to the tip of his nose. “As you wish.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that..."

Shifting up on to one elbow, Nox tensed herself for another full-bodied stretch. She arched her back as best as she could in her twisted state, pushing her body back into his with slightly less than innocent intentions. He wanted her...she knew it, and she wanted him to feel just how much she knew it, to feel exactly how wet she was and to have it slip and slide against him, giving him all the cue and permission he needed to do whatever he wished with her. And he took the hint, judging by the sound of the breath that caught in his throat, or the way his fingers suddenly bit into the flesh of her hip.

He was holding her steady, and from one breath to the next, his lips found hers as he pushed forward with deliberate slowness. She hadn't quite been expecting that. If he was to go any slower, he would have been moving backward, it seemed. Inch by painfully slow inch, he teased her. It drove her insane, and he knew it. She was tensing her body, readying herself to just pounce on him and be done with it, but his tongue was sliding against hers, drinking down her open-mouthed gasps, making her forget anything and everything other than the fact that she wanted to explode.

Apparently driving her crazy _was_  his version of doing whatever he wished with her. This time.

Nox was not normally a patient person with her lovers and matters of physical pleasure, and Theron already knew that, but with each long, teasing stroke, coupled with the near constant attention he was giving to her lips, her senses quickly became overloaded, sharpened further by a strong wave of emotion that struck her to her core. Some of the emotions were hers, but not all of them. Out of curiosity, she drew on the Force, lightly brushing his mind with her own, and was surprised to find…nothing. There was no wall between them. Whether it was intentional or not, Theron had opened his mind to her, letting her feel everything he felt – happiness mixed with fear and sadness, pride, anger, envy…and something else that caught her off-guard, something she’d never felt before and had never expected to feel. She also noticed the distinct lack of one particularly powerful emotion – regret.

And as if sensing her gentle touch, he moaned softly into her mouth, sliding his hand up under the tee shirt to rest flat between her breasts, molding her to him in such a way that she could feel each exquisite inch as he steadily moved inside her.

Biting down on one side of her lower lip, Nox threw her head back, brows scrunched in concentration as she focused on the ball of pressure quickly building at her core. When she started to tighten around him, she felt him press a kiss to her jawline and reach for her knee. He snaked his tattooed arm underneath, bringing it up to his cheek, resulting in a completely new angle for...everything. Each renewed thrust he took made her leg twitch helplessly in the air, hitting just the right spot...that delicious pleasure-pain point right at the base of her spine. The one that was quickly turning her into putty in his hands.

In an attempt to alleviate her over-stimulation, Nox began to squirm against him, an effort made futile when the corded muscles of his forearm flexed, and a set of fingers wrapped securely around her throat. The movement stretched her leg further, almost too far, and she also found herself locked in place, no longer able to struggle. She clutched at his wrist, freezing as panic momentarily took her. She'd never allowed herself to be put into such a compromising position before, not even with Nik. She took in a gulp of breath, fighting against the panic-riddled desire to lash out. But then she felt Theron nuzzle his nose to her temple, his breaths tickling at the hair around her face. Words washing over her like a balm, urging her to let him know if he'd overstepped. She closed her eyes and focused again on his emotions, still laid out before her, and how she made him feel, her fears melting away as quickly as they'd surfaced at the thought of how much trust he placed in her by laying everything out in the open. That was a gesture to be treasured. She knew in his line of work he prided himself on being able to hide everything that made him who he truly was. And for him to open himself up to a her...a Sith...

He would never hurt her. She knew that now.

She gave in...and, much to her surprise, she found that she enjoyed it. Perhaps a little too much. The feeling of his fingers at her throat, the way his breath caught as she tightened herself around him...even the way his stubble grazed at the side of her cheek – all of these sensations washed over her, heightening her pleasure to such a level of intensity that all other thoughts slipped away into nothingness. 

She opened her mouth around a soundless gasp, her body involuntarily fighting against his iron grip. It was out of her control. She couldn't help it. She was teetering right on the edge, right at the precipice, and her insides started to quiver in anticipation of her inevitable white-hot release. Through the fogged haze in her mind, she felt the fingers at her windpipe apply more pressure, squeezing just enough to drive her even further...and then a pair of lips grazed against her ear, teeth teasing the sensitive flesh into shivers that radiated all the way down her spine. 

_“Come on, baby...let go..."_

Bloody fucking hell...

She heard the words...or perhaps just that one word...and before she knew it, as if on command, she found herself tumbling off into oblivion. Her eyes snapped open, she cried out...something, most likely incoherent babble...and all of the tension she'd been building came undone around her as her tiny little world shattered into one of the most powerful orgasms she'd ever had.

Theron didn't waste any time. Releasing his hold on her throat, he yanked her mouth to his, taking in every ounce of her climax in a rush to catch up with her. He snapped his hips forward as hard as he could, stifling a muffled grunt with the movements of his mouth over hers. Once. Twice he met her, until finally he fell, letting the rolling waves of her orgasm carry him off and away, the almost serpentine contractions milking him for everything he had as the sound of their panting breaths wove together in an intimate chorus of mutual exhaustion and bliss. 

Her body had gone limp in his arms, the sheer depth of the sensations he’d pulled out of her leaving her completely winded. Scooching backwards, he released her leg and gently lowered it to the floor, rolling her onto her back while he leaned over her, massaging the aching muscles of her previously overextended thigh. “Are you dead?”

She cracked one emerald eye open, quirking her lips into a crooked smile. “You really shouldn’t try to suck the life out of me until I’ve had a chance to kick Revan in the arse.”

“No promises,” he chuckled as he settled himself on his side next to her, palm resting flat on her stomach.

Sighing in contemplation at the ceiling, Nox reached for his hand, threading and unthreading their fingers together as she focused on relaxing. Breathe in. Breathe out. For what seemed like hours, they lay in silence, Nox concentrating on her breathing while Theron watched her quietly, memorizing every curve and dip of her strong profile. Soon they would both have to leave their little sanctuary and start the day.

By the time she opened her eyes again, the dim pre-dawn light in the room had quite rudely grown, blooming into full morning. Nox wanted nothing more than to just ignore it – didn’t she deserve a day off once in a while? Groaning in disgust at the thought of moving, she forced herself into a sitting position, frowning angrily at the light streaming through the window.

She looked down at Theron’s arm across her lap, reaching for his hand to brush a light kiss to his knuckles. As she turned the hand over, she inspected his palm, noting the light calluses and scars of a man who was used to getting his hands dirty, quite literally. Nox had only seen him in a combat situation once, and he had been bruised and battered at the time. She imagined he must be more than capable if Lana’s suspicions about him were correct, that he was indeed the asset the Empire knew as ‘Technoplague,’ and was responsible for quite a few astounding strikes against her faction, including the deaths of two Dark Council members. Laughing to herself, she realized that it didn’t matter to her in the slightest – they both had plenty of blood on their hands, though the fair amount of irony involved did not escape her.

She traced her index finger from the center of his palm down to the inside of his wrist, observing how the edges of the artwork on his arm extended onto the heel of his hand. Her fingertips mapped over the smooth trails of the veins right under the skin of his forearm, her eyes absorbing the colorful mish mash of inked images that blended together into one cohesive – and striking – work of art. Set against a dark background of stars, a variety of ships scrolled their way around his arm, including a sleek Imperial destroyer that was larger than the rest. Nox had never seen it before, but it did resemble the images she had seen of the Ascendant Spear. Apparently Lana had been correct in her assertions, then. What called to her the most, however, wasn’t the ships or the view of a cityscape that appeared to be New Adasta, it was the single blue-bladed lightsaber centered on the inside of his forearm. Bearing the simple unadorned hilt of a Jedi, the lightsaber was slashed by the clouds of a beautiful nebula, clearly meant to stand apart from everything else.

“That’s Master Zho...”

Startled out of her reverie, Nox glanced over to see that Theron had been watching her as she studied his arm. “He must have been important to you.”

“He was. He took care of me, after my moth-, Master Satele, decided she didn’t want me…or couldn’t keep me…or whatever she’s trying to get me to believe these days.” Flinching at the bitterness in his voice, Nox was reminded of the fact that she knew absolutely nothing about her own parents. 

“What happened to him?”

“He died defending a friend from Imperial troopers. He…deserved better.”

“I'm sorry...” She reached over, running the back of her hand over his cheek. “Did you know your father?”

Theron sat in silence for a few moments, considering his next words. “I ah, only learned who he was a couple years ago, and you’re going to love this…he’s, uh, pretty high up in the ranks of the Republic military.” Nox quirked her brows at him, expecting more of a description. “He’s actually at the top.”

The entire concept of Theron’s parentage was so ridiculous to her, she couldn’t help herself and burst out with a most ridiculous laugh aimed at the ceiling. “You mean to tell me that you’re the son of not only _Grand Master_ Satele Shan, but also _Supreme Commander_ Jace Malcolm?

“Can’t make this stuff up, right?” He scrunched an eye shut, looking up at her with the other in anticipation of the joke that was inevitably coming.

“Theron Shan, bastard prince of the Republic,” she chuckled, affectionately brushing her thumb over his lips.

“Ha! I suppose so.” He frowned, turning his head away from her hand. “It turns out he didn’t even know I existed, thanks to my mother. He and I just sort of stumbled across each other, and he put two and two together.”

“So, why did you keep her name?” Theron shifted himself into a sitting position, crossing his legs as he faced her side. Sensing that he wasn’t following her train of thought, Nox continued. “You’re clearly angry with her, and I can’t blame you in the least for it. But why would you keep her name? I’m sure people must associate you with her all the time.”

“Hmm, I guess I never really thought about it. I’ve heard that Sith change their names and take on new identities. Did you do that? I mean, I can’t imagine ‘Nox’ is your real name.”

Suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation’s change in direction, Nox decided it was time to get up. She pushed herself up off the floor, smoothing the t-shirt to settle down over her thighs. “It’s not.”

“And I take it you’re not going to tell me what it is.”

As he got to his feet, Nox had to force herself to keep her eyes up. She turned her back to him, heading in the direction of the refresher. “It’s just a name, Theron.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

A flicker of frustration flaring in her gut, she spun back towards him, her hands placed firmly at her hips to help enforce her words. “Why does it matter? I haven’t been that person in a very long time.” She realized that she must look ridiculous, trying to appear fierce when she was standing there in nothing but a baggy undershirt, her hair quite an unruly mess. Not to mention the fact that her eyes insistently kept trying to pull her gaze in a more southerly direction, the delicious smattering of hair on his chest leading into a trail down his torso just begging to be followed. Entirely too distracting.

He started to close the distance between them, holding his hands out in front of him. “Look, I know a little something about having to be two people at the same time – it’s my job. The important part is not losing the person you are to the person you have to be.”

Sighing, she cocked her head slightly to the side, her words directed at the floor. “If only it were so simple. I’m sorry, I just can’t. I’ve spent a long time trying to forget. My people need to see a deadly leader, not a slave who was nothing. I know that’s not what you want to hear.” Her expression softening, she brought her eyes up to his and inclined her head, brushing a light kiss to his lips before turning again and walking to the refresher, the conversation decidedly over.

Nox cleaned herself up and threw on her robes in a hurry, casually strolling back into the main room with her head tilted to one side, systematically combing her fingers through her hair in a rather vain attempt at taming the unruly strands into submission. What she wouldn’t have given at that moment for her hairbrush.

She saw that Theron had settled himself at the table, her nose recognizing the sharp herbal scent she normally smelled on him as he picked up a rag and started to rub down a blaster with cleaning oil. Lost in thought as her fingers worked, Nox studied how the muscles of his shoulders rippled under the skin with the back and forth motions of wiping down the blaster in his hand. Stars, the man was beautiful. Where Nik was all dusky smooth and toned, Theron had a slightly heavier, more defined build. Nik had very little in the way of hair anywhere on his body, while Theron had a wonderful head of hair that virtually demanded to have fingers twined into it, all day every day. They were both very attractive men in their own right, and right at that moment she couldn't help the rather girly little giggle her inside voice made at the thought of having two such beautiful men in her life. She wouldn't know what to do with herself. Oh, who was she kidding, she most definitely would.

Was it selfish? Of course. Not to mention the fact that they'd probably kill each other. But she figured that it was nice to dream. And she was Sith, so there was that. 

Satisfied that her hair was as detangled as it was going to get without a brush, she decided she was going to have a bit of fun. Shrouding herself in shadow, she stood up on her tip-toes and did her best to sneak up on Theron. Quite pleased with herself, she closed the space between them, coming up behind him to place a kiss at the top of his spine. She giggled when he flinched, and nipped, probably a little harder than she needed to before running the tip of her tongue up behind an ear.

“Be careful or I just might have to pin you to the floor again...you know I could hear you, right?”

“Stars, please no,” she chuckled, perching herself on the edge of the cot to begin the arduous process of lacing up her boots. “You have officially given a Sith a run for her money in the endurance department. My legs feel like jelly. I have no idea how I’m supposed to fight my way through a herd of Massassi.”

“Well, you could try flashing them – that might distract them enough.” He made the statement with such casual surety that Nox had to pause for a moment to make sure he was actually joking; perhaps her dry sense of humor had started to rub off on him. He got up from the table – thankfully having donned a pair of pants – and plopped down next to her on the cot, handing her a datapad. “You know what, on second thought, don’t.” He leaned into her, nudging her with his shoulder. “I don’t want to have to be jealous. _Anyways_ , I mapped out the most efficient path for you to take. You’ll have to hit two points before you can actually get into the temple itself to disable the last lock.”

“Perfect…I’m sure you’ll be watching me every step of the way.” She leaned over, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“I always am. You know I have my ways.” He paused for a moment, brows quirked as if he was unsure about what he wanted to say next. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can always ask.” Nox could see that her deliberately worded response did not go unnoticed.

“Would you stay here with me? I mean, while we’re still here on Yavin Four that is. Not right at this moment.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want? You told me that your mother-”

“I really couldn’t care less what she thinks,” he interrupted. “I just want to spend as much time as we can together until…“ He started to fidget, reaching up to nervously scrub a hand through his hair. “I’m still not convinced that we can’t figure something out.”

Nox pushed herself off the cot with a pensive huff, considering heavily if it was a good idea or not for her to continue to stay with him. She liked to think that she was prepared to give him up when the time came, but she was worried that the more time they spent together, the harder it would be for him. And even though she would love for a way to miraculously appear for them to continue exploring their feelings for each other, she honestly didn’t see how that could be possible. Not without one of them giving up who they were, and she would never let him do that for her. But again, that dread of causing him pain kicked in; she couldn’t help but want to make him happy, and if staying with him for now would make him happy, then she would. “Very well,” she replied, the grimace on her face instantly fading when she saw his eyes light up. “I’ll have Khem collect my belongings from the Valkyrie at some point today.”

Jumping up from the cot, he pulled her into a tight hug, the heat from his bare torso warming up her midriff as he crushed her against him. “Thank you. This sort of thing is all new to me too, ya know? My line of work, you stare death in the face pretty much all the time, and I’ve never really met anybody that made me care about anything more than just getting the job done and moving on to the next one.”

“Oh, I find that hard to believe. You’re a very handsome man, Theron.” Releasing her, he moved past her and leaned on the table, blushing at the floor. “And you know it – don’t even bother trying to convince me otherwise,” she quipped.

Grinning sheepishly, he picked up her saber hilt and studied it, absent-mindedly turning it over in his hands, completely unaware of the significance involved in what he was doing. Not even Andronikos had dared touch it, but surprisingly, she found that she didn’t mind seeing it in Theron’s hands in the least. “I could say the same for you. I see how men, and some women, look at you – it may make me want to punch them in the face, not the women...well, maybe some of the women, but that’s beside the point – you could have anyone you want. And I’m rambling...” Nox saw his expression falter ever so slightly and recover, reminding her of the feeling of jealousy she had felt from him before – ah, Nik. “Anyways, we’re not all that different, you know. Well, there is the whole Force thing, but I’m talking about everything else. You’re the job, right?” Seeing her nod slightly, he continued, crossing his arms over his chest in what Nox considered to be a – very – distracting manner, especially since he was still holding her saber hilt. “Well I’m the job too. We’ve both always done what we needed to survive, and that included keeping the best parts of ourselves locked away. I didn’t even know I had a ‘best part’ til I met you.”

“Aww, who knew you could be so deep?” She placed a hand on his chest, standing on her tip-toes to brush a light kiss to his forehead.

“You know me – full of surprises.”

\---------------

Nox keyed the door shut to find Khem Val already standing sentry outside. Nearby, Akori’ira lounged lazily against Lieutenant Pierce as he sat perched upon a rock, idly tracing his fingers over the tattoos on her lekku in an extremely rare sign of affection. Caught completely off-guard, Nox took a quick look around them and realized that besides her and Khem, they were alone, and she and the white Twi’lek had enough of a history to be completely open with each other, so she supposed it wasn’t that big a deal.

Once she saw her friend emerge, Kira jumped up and practically ran over to her, tchun and tchin twitching with excitement. “Details. Now.”

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know while we’re cutting through a pack of rabid Massassi. Don’t say it, Kira!” She knew the Twi’lek’s ‘rancor in a china shop’ sense of humor would go right back to the previous day’s utterly inappropriate interruption. Yes, the word was funny – no need to call attention to it. “Khem, would you be able to collect my things from Kira’s ship and bring them here?”

As the Dashade acquiesced, grumbling about not being a hand-servant, Kira’s eye narrowed on her friend, her face screwed into a rather distinct grimace. “Uh-huh.”

“What? Are you ready to go?”

“I’ll catch up…I need to have a little chat with our Republic friend.”

“Kira…” Nox frowned, cocking her head to the side in warning, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Akori’ira held out her hands, feigning innocence. “Seriously, Nox. I’ll be nice. I promise!”

“Kira, so help me…just don’t be long.” She moved her hands to her hips, locking eyes with Khem, the Dashade almost imperceptibly nodding as she flicked her chin towards the door. He would not move until he was sure the Wrath kept to her word.


	13. Twin Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron has thinky thoughts and comes to a decision. Flashbacks happen.  
> Nox rips off the bandage - Theron is not happy about it. Well, really neither of them are. 
> 
> I totally apologize for the length of this one!
> 
> I was listening to "Twin Flames" by In This Moment, one of my absolute fav bands ever!

Yavin Four – Theron

One week. It had taken Nox and the Wrath one week of performing menial tasks for the Coalition before Darth Marr and the Grand Master deemed their forces ready to make the final push to the temple Revan was holed up in. ‘Cementing the Coalition,’ they’d called it. Having already taken care of the supposed-to-be-deceased Jedi-turned Sith-turned Jedi’s means of fully restoring the Emperor, they weren’t exactly in a hurry anyways. And truth be told, Theron thought Nox had deliberately dragged her feet, to the extent that she could without being obvious, which was just fine by him. From pest control, to recovering relics, to clearing out the Massassi village, to simple recon, Nox took care of it all, and Theron would have loved to have been at her side through all of it. How convenient that the Grand Master always seemed to need his expertise…anyplace Nox wasn’t. 

Even so, his mother couldn’t keep him chained to her all the time. They may have spent the majority of their days apart, but he and Nox had quickly fallen into some semblance of a routine in the short time they were together. It was the little things that he’d come to cherish, the things that created a sense of such normalcy that it was sometimes easy to forget who they both were. The fact that she preferred to shower in the middle of the night, her movements waking him just enough to feel her snuggle back into his arms, the smell of her freshly cleaned hair lulling him back to sleep. The way she brushed her long waves out every morning in a meditation ritual of sorts, perched on the edge of the bed, watching as he maintained his blasters and cybernetic implants. How they would escape the tedium each afternoon just to enjoy each other’s company and eat together on the central landing pad, legs dangling over the edge as they watched the tops of the trees sway in the jungle below. And finally, the way her body responded simply to the sound of his voice while entangled in their throes of passion. That one was his favorite.

Then there were the surprises. Nice surprises. Amazing surprises. One day he’d returned to the room they shared to find a small package addressed to him, containing a primer of the Dashade language. Another day Nox had disappeared from comms, making him fear the worst. He’d gone looking for her only to be told by Imperial soldiers about the camp that she’d returned from the field some time earlier. Thoroughly upset that she’d been so inconsiderate in making him worry, he’d stormed through the door of the room to find her on the bed wearing nothing but one of his undershirts, lazily tapping at a datapad as she lounged on her stomach, feet idly twitching in the air in time to one of her favorite songs. “Took you long enough…” was all she’d said. Neither of them returned to work for quite a while, much to the annoyance of their teams, if the incessant beeping of their comms was any gauge.

But despite everything, the moment they’d been working for had come and gone. Revan had been dealt with. Of course, as things never seem to work out entirely as intended, the Sith Emperor had still managed to return, in some form, the body count that both the Coalition and the Revanites racked up having given him revitalizing strength. Though their original task had been completed, it would seem they had a new end goal, and it would have been smart for the Coalition to continue working together. Then why was it that Theron had formed a giant pit in his stomach, and felt like he was about to be thrown over the edge?

As the two dropships sped over the jungle side by side on their return to the Coalition base, Theron scanned his eyes across the treetops to the other ship, looking for Nox. She leaned against the open door with her hood thrown back, clearly enjoying the breeze on her face, wisps of her disheveled hair stuck down across her sweaty brow. He’d gone into battle with a score of people, but he’d found it difficult to focus on anything but her and Revan.

> _Theron watched as Revan and the youngest Dark Lord of the Sith sized each other up. Circling. Assessing weakness. A flash of lighting split the air, rain falling from the sky in fat droplets to run in rivulets down her hood. Another flash and Theron saw the light reflected back in her eyes, set afire with the passions that lent her strength. She slowly spun her black-red bladed saberstaff in front of her as they circled, her lips quirked into a cocky grin meant to goad her adversary into making the first move. And it worked._
> 
> _As if time had slowed down, Revan let out an enraged scream and launched himself at her, hoping to impale her in one strike. But he found only empty space. With a giggle, Nox had already vanished into thin air, leaving her adversary to spin around in frustration, the sizzle of the rain drops falling on his blade the only sound as he held his breath, waiting for her inevitable strike to come. When the attack came, Nox materialized into view behind him, whirling through the air at his back, knocking him off-balance. At the same time, Theron saw a blur of white and red launch itself into the fray, coming into focus as the Wrath slammed her red blade down, barely blocked by an unbalanced Revan._
> 
> _The rest of the allies fanned out, choosing their roles. Some, including Theron, chose to harry the target with cover fire, while others bolstered the strength of Darth Nox and the Wrath, supporting them through the Force. Nox and the white Twi’lek struck in perfect tandem, one a spinning blur of acrobatics, confusing Revan by never being where he expected, and the other the personification of pure unadulterated rage. Theron noted that where Nox was all fluid grace, the Wrath was raw and direct, the two fighting styles almost exact representations of the actual Sith beneath._
> 
> _Out of the corner of his eye, Theron saw a third red blade catapult into the middle of the melee. Though Nox had mentioned that Darth Marr had been her mentor on the Dark Council, in combat he was more akin to the Wrath – pure power and anger driving every movement. It was all Revan could do to stave off the coordinated attacks of the three Sith surrounding him. As soon as one would let up, another would strike, never giving him a chance to catch his breath, or land any hits of his own._
> 
> _Just as Theron thought he saw their adversary’s strength falter, Revan let out a wretched bellow, lashing out with the Force at everybody simultaneously. All of the combatants, aside from Nox, were slammed against the wall, Theron’s vision momentarily swimming with the wind knocked out of his lungs. Screaming in rage, Nox hesitated ever so slightly, her feet pivoting in the puddle beneath her as she considered the option of running to his aid. But she didn’t. Instead, she continued her onslaught, irises rimmed red with the anger that consumed her. Revan went down to one knee, just managing to block her strikes. She began to circle around him, spinning her saberstaff above her, the black-red blade igniting with purple electricity as she drew upon the storm, channeling all of her anger into it. Launching herself at her adversary, she kicked her booted feet off his chest for one final acrobatic leap, twisting backwards in the air to release all of the force of the storm directly into him. Revan flew backwards a distance and lay still, steam and smoke wafting off of his charred robes._
> 
> _Without giving Revan a second glance, Nox sheathed her blade and ran over to Theron, burning anger turning to fear. She knelt down beside him, pulling her rain-soaked hood from her forehead and took his chin in her hand, examining him for any obvious signs of damage._
> 
> _“I’m fine.” Theron looked into her eyes, trying his best to smile. “Just some scratches and bruises, that’s all,” he chuckled._
> 
> _Rolling her eyes with a huff, she stood, offering him her hand. He clasped her forearm, pulling himself to his feet with a groan. As they stood facing each other, forearms still locked together, Theron watched the blazing torrent of emotions in her eyes focus into one singular design – desire. He had been the object of that predatory gaze plenty of times before, only this time it was amplified exponentially by the heat of battle. In the end it was the Wrath who had stopped her from claiming her prize, diverting her attention away, which in hindsight was probably a good idea. Theron admitted that his being pounced by a Dark Lord of the Sith would likely not have gone over well, tentative alliance notwithstanding. But oh how he wanted it. He would have given anything to be in a place where he could have taken her into his arms and let her passions burn away into him. If they had been alone, he would have pushed up her skirts and fucked her there against the wall of the temple, right in that downpour, the fact that they were both bruised and covered in grime only serving to heighten his own lust for her._

Ugh, he had to think about something else. He’d let his mind get carried away a bit at the end there. Of course that couldn’t have happened. Revan had only been knocked unconscious and had to be dealt with. And then there was that little bit about the Sith Emperor popping up to say ‘hello’ before disappearing off to who-knows-where. Perhaps being involved with a Sith _was_ rubbing off on him a little too much, as his mother had feared. Or, perhaps he was finally realizing that he understood their ways more than he thought was possible.

Nox had told him that each Sith needed to interpret their Code for themselves. That some took it too far, to the point of sociopathic zealotry, was not inherently the fault of the Code. And she was right. From what he could see, there _were_ Sith who did things differently, who didn’t want to see the galaxy burn and rule over the ashes; Sith who weren’t like Mekhis and Karrid. She’d helped him to see that. He’d grown up being told about the big bad evil Empire and how it was the Republic’s duty to see it destroyed. But, how did that make them any better? Were they really all that different? Corrupt politicians only interested in their own wealth and self-interests, or a ruling council of Force users no longer saddled with a despotic relic for an emperor? Which was the lesser evil? Theron wasn’t so sure he could choose so readily anymore. He’d seen the worst of what each side had to offer, and neither was pretty. What he _was_ sure of, was that he could have been thrown in the brig for even having those thoughts, but it was the truth. Just as many people fought for an Empire they loved as with the Republic. Would he have been any different if he had been born elsewhere? It was all a matter of perspective, and geography.

All of these thoughts were leading him to one large question. Was he willing to leave everything behind, give up all he had ever known, for a chance to be with the one person who had given him a reason to question, and who had shown him what it was like to want more? It wasn’t like he had anything to go back to anyways, other than responsibility and a shaken sense of loyalty. Up until then, he’d lead the life of a loner. A workaholic. Outside of work, he’d never really had a relationship last more than a few casual encounters. Even his friendships were for the most part one-sided. And now that the rumor of his relationship with a Sith had made its way around the entire encampment, as he knew it inevitably would despite their best efforts, his own people had elevated him from loner status to full-on social pariah. While the Imperials seemed to accept him like it was the norm, even showing him a bit of deference, which was entirely odd, it wasn’t uncommon for him to hear whispers and taunts coming from the Republic side of the camp. He’d even picked up the word ‘traitor’ uttered under hushed breaths more than once. And then there was the very awkward conversation he’d had with the Wrath the morning after the first night he and Nox had spent together.

> _“Hey there, spy guy.” The white Twi’lek pushed herself off from the rock she had been lounging against and planted herself in front of Theron, leaning back on one hip with her arms crossed over her chest, her signature ‘let’s get down to business’ pose. Groaning internally, he involuntarily cast his eyes about his surroundings, noting Khem Val’s presence off to his left and the large Imperial trooper the Wrath had arrived with casually inspecting his blaster rifle a ways away, clearly meant to be keeping watch. At least Khem was there – that told him that her intentions weren’t physical, he hoped. Theron should have known this conversation was coming; just as his mother had to get her word in, Nox’s friend – though he sensed there was a bit more to it than that – would undoubtedly want one as well. “There’s no need to be anxious, I told Nox I’d be a good girl,” she said, her one good eye narrowing on him with a sly grin._
> 
> _“Lord Wrath…should I bow or something?”_
> 
> _“Oh c’mon. There’s no need to stand on pointless formalities. We’re all friends here. But I think I’d pay to see you curtsey.” The Wrath’s eyes idly roved over him in appreciation, a tactic Theron recognized as a means to unbalance him. He was glad he’d gotten a crash course in ‘Sith Speak 101’ in his past dealings with Nox. She’d used the very same moves on him more than once, except with Nox he found that he actually liked it. Not so much with the Twi’lek. He got the impression that he had yet to earn the Wrath’s approval, and wasn’t sure he ever would._
> 
> _“Um, okay. So, is there something I can do for you?” Jaw set in stubborn refusal to be dominated, Theron purposefully adopted the same stance as the Sith in front of him, creating a rather comical picture for Khem Val as he watched them square off, both refusing to give ground._
> 
> _Lord Akori’ira let out a sharp breath through her nose, quirking her tattooed brows in curious admiration at the spy’s boldness. “Now that you mention it, I’d actually like to chat about what you’ve already done.”_
> 
> _Theron knew exactly what she was referring to, and unlike with his mother, he didn’t dare respond with a snappy comeback. He may have had the balls to not allow her to unbalance him, but he wasn’t stupid. Her sense of humor would only go so far, and he didn’t know what buttons he could push safely. “You seemed more than ok with it before,” he responded, remembering her comment from the previous night, something about loving to stay for dinner and a show._
> 
> _“Yeah, and I thought you both had enough sense to just use each other to get off and then be done with it.” She dropped her hands to her hips, deliberately bringing attention to her leather-wrapped curves. Sighing to himself, Theron again noted that while Nox was a master player of the game, this woman was subtle like a gun, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. “I’m the first person to jump at the chance of having some fun…but where can you possibly see this going?”_
> 
> _He paused for a moment, considering his next words very carefully. “I’m not really sure, but I’d like the chance to find out.”_
> 
> _“Look, I get why she likes you.” She brought a hand to her chin, starting to lazily pace around him. Quite sure she intended to force him to turn to follow her, Theron decided to stand his ground, letting her address the back of his head, or more likely his ass, until she circled back to face him. “You’re different from the other mindless lackeys. You actually have a brain, and you use it. You understand what she’s trying to do and what that means.” Folding her arms over her chest again, she fixed him with a narrow-eyed lavender glare. “But, whatever your intentions, you’ve changed her. I saw it right away – do you think her rivals won’t? You may get to go back to your soft Republic, but she has to go back to – our – reality, where she has to lead our people with a ruthless edge. She can’t have room for you when she’s always going to have to fight to survive._
> 
> _Momentarily caught off-guard by the Twi’lek’s blunt show of concern for Nox, and the rather obvious point that she made, Theron was at a loss for words and started to grasp at straws. “And what if she were to leave, to come with me?”_
> 
> _“I think you know better than that,” she chuckled, both lek twitching in annoyance. “Besides, even if she wanted to run, she’d be hunted to the end of her days. Members of the Dark Council don’t just get free passes out of the Empire.”_
> 
> _Theron let out an exasperated sigh, betraying his frustration. “So what exactly are you telling me to do?”_
> 
> _Rolling her eye, the Wrath made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a huff. “I would hope that would be rather apparent. What’s done is done, have your little affair here,” she added, throwing her hands up in the air, as if it were a trivial notion. “I was there before you, and I'll_ _be there after you to put the pieces of her life back together.” She closed the space between them, bringing her face to within inches of his. “But Theron, if you hurt her, I – will – kill you.” She turned on her heels, the tip of a lek brushing against him from the force of her movement. “Let’s go, Mason...”_
> 
> _“Yes, m’lord.” The burly Imperial fell in step as she walked past him, leaving Theron to stare after them. With the added sensitivity from his implants, he was able to overhear part of their conversation as they turned the corner, moving towards the staging area. “That one’s got a set...”_
> 
> _“That he does, luv. Any other circumstance and he’d be good for her. Losing him now is going to break her.”_

Looking back on it, Theron supposed he must have earned the Wrath’s approval, or at least some form of it. She’d also been right. He did know better. Even if it were an option, Nox wouldn’t have been the woman he’d fallen for if she gave up on her people, and he wouldn’t have been worthy of her if he asked her to leave for him. But where did that leave the decision that had been rolling around in his head?

By the time they reached the Coalition base the rain had stopped, and as the dropships descended to the landing pad below, the glimmer of hope that he had been holding on to about the alliance staying together winked out of existence when he looked down to see the encampment, or what was left of it. Now that their initial reason for being on the planet was complete, the two factions couldn’t get away from each other fast enough. The fact that the Emperor was out there somewhere was apparently too much of an unknown, filed under ‘to be handled at a later date.’ That was such a mistake. He had to make a decision, fast.

Theron began to make a mental checklist in his head, trying to weigh the very different outcomes of such a life-altering choice. There was only one person he could talk to about it, and she seemed determined to get away as fast as possible. She’d hopped out of the other dropship while it was still hovering in the air and began making her way towards the staging area, and the room they shared behind it. Just as he was about to run off after her, he was pulled back by the Grand Master.

“Theron, please meet me in my chambers. You need to be debriefed before returning to my flagship.”

He watched in frustration as Nox's form grew smaller as it moved further and further away. “With all due respect, Grand Master, there’s something I need to do first.”

“Now, Theron. I have an important proposal for you.” Nodding, he sighed in defeat, hoping he would be able to catch her before she left.

\---------------

Theron left the Grand Master’s chambers at a jog, making directly for the one-room structure he’d shared with Nox for the past week, one of the few mobile units still left standing. A giant hole had formed in his gut, filled with doubt and worry. What if she’d just left without saying goodbye? Would she do that? Could she? He was growing more and more anxious by the second, and the more he thought about it, the more another emotion was beginning to wiggle its way in to mix in with his anxiety – anger. As he approached the door, he heard the Nox's voice coming from the other side, harsh and flat.

“Nik...”

He keyed the door open to find her addressing a holo of a man with a number of ragged scars across his face, complete with a patch over his left eye. Theron thought to himself that the man certainly took the word ‘rugged’ to an entirely new level. A pirate, maybe? Clearly not Imperial by his accent - the man was from the Republic. How ironic. 

_“You ready for a pick-up, Sith? Your little nerd mascot has been bouncing off the walls waiting to get a chance to see the ruins on that planet.”_

Noticing Theron enter the room, Nox locked her eyes to his, her expression just as flat as her voice. If she was effected by the anger etched on his face, she didn’t show it. He couldn’t even bring himself to relax enough to lean on the wall by the door, so he just stood there and watched the conversation, fists clenched at his sides.

“Please extend my apologies to Talos, Andronikos – we’ve been called on another mission. Meet us at the main landing pad in thirty minutes.”

_“Us?”_

The weight to the question made Theron wonder if the scarred man was referring to him, if he even knew about him.

“We will be working with the Lord Wrath on this mission.”

_“And you’ll be taking me with you, right?”_

The meaning to that one did not escape him. _Scars_ did know about him.

“Now is not the time for that discussion. Thirty minutes.” Nox disconnected the call, glancing over at Theron quickly before grabbing a pair of fresh robes and disappearing into the refresher to change out of her rain-mud-blood-soaked ones. Why she’d all of a sudden grown shy about him seeing her naked body was a mystery, but the meaning behind it couldn’t have been good. He didn’t even care that he was still soaked to the bone; he would change later when his mind wasn’t running at a million miles a minute.

“Was that him?” he asked to the air, the edge of his frustrated anger just barely bubbling under the surface. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to ask a question he already knew the answer to, other than to perhaps see if she would answer it.

She appeared at the doorway pulling the top of her robes down over her breasts, her hair still in a disheveled mess. “It doesn’t matter, Theron.” Not a lie, but she also didn’t answer the question, so that was a yes.

He watched as she moved about the room, gathering the few things she’d brought with her – some toiletries, a delicate bottle of that scent he loved so much, her balled up dirty robes, a hairbrush, and a portable music player that he’d already copied all of the songs from. “I really hope you weren’t thinking you could just sneak away.”

“I’m not _sneaking_ away from anything. I’m doing what needs to be done.” It physically hurt him to hear her voice so devoid of emotion when he knew she could be so full of life and passion. She had shut down, put up her walls and closed herself off from him.

“Would you just stop for a minute? _Please_?” Reaching out, he grabbed her by the wrist, hoping she would look at him. She let out a ragged sigh, closing her eyes as a pained expression washed over her face. The hand she placed over his felt cold against his skin. Theron took a deep breath, determined to get out what he needed to. “You should know - the Republic exonerated me, so I’m back in the fold. And they gave me a new job. A big one.” It figured that his mother would throw that at him – she was using it as leverage because she knew that he was having doubts. 

Her eyes snapped open and she looked up him, face breaking into a genuine smile. “Theron, that’s wonderful news! All that hard work has paid off. I’m so happy for you!”

“I turned them down...”

The smile fell, just as quickly as it had appeared. “What? _Why?!?_ ”

“I want to come with you.” She pulled away from him, starting to back away like a frightened animal. “Just listen... I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. If it means I get to stay with you, I’ll give it up. There’s nothing for me here.”

“ _No..._ ” The word was uttered so softly and with so much pain behind it, it was left hanging in the air to choke in Theron’s throat.

“I…I don’t understand.”

“I will not let you throw your life away for me.” The walls went back up; she might as well have just told him that the sky was blue. Her eyes fell to the floor and she moved away to continue gathering her things together.

His fists clenched at his sides, anger returning in full. How could she make that decision without talking to him first? It was his life! “Why is it that everybody thinks they have a say in my life except for me? First my mother, then Master Zho, then my father, and-now-you!” He yelled at the space between them, because there really was no point in yelling at the back of her head.

“And you’d what, live a life at my beck and call?” She whirled around to face him again, fixing him with a harsh emerald gaze. “Work for Lana? Become a double agent? Oh, that would be quite the win for the new Minister of Sith Intelligence, now wouldn’t it?” she laughed bitterly, her hands moving to her hips, setting herself up for the kill. “We already have a code name picked out for you and everything.” That last bit hurt, and she knew it. He figured she would have put two and two together and piece out who he was, but he also didn’t think she’d throw it at him like that.

“Would that be so bad? You _clearly_ have others willing to do the same thing!” he spat, gesturing to the mobile holocommunicator she’d set on the table.

She pushed out her lower jaw, setting it in stubborn determination as she stood in front of him. “And what will you do the first time you see me kill a Republic soldier, or a Jedi? Because it will happen. Did you think of that? You would turn your back on your own people?” She raised her arms in question, letting them fall back against her thighs with a soft slap.

It was a rhetorical question, but Theron continued to push. “Do you think I’m naive enough to not realize what you are?!?” It was a mistake, but it was too late to take it back. He flinched, seeing the flash of red fire ring around the emerald of her eyes. “I’m sorry.. _who..._ you are...” he backpedaled, holding his hands out in front of him in submission. Heart threatening to pound out of his chest, he took a deep breath, hoping to diffuse the palpable weight in the air. “And more than enough of my own people have already turned their backs on me.”

She scrunched her eyes shut, attempting to reign in her emotions before they got out of hand. “But that’s not who _you_ are.” Opening her eyes, she took his hands in hers, face heavy with sadness. “I’m sorry Theron, you would grow to resent me, and it would poison everything.” She paused, visibly regaining her composure. “I care about you too much to allow that.”

There weren’t enough words to describe how thoroughly overwhelmed he felt at that moment. Defeated? Depressed? Hopeless? Check. Check. Check. He looked down at his hands in hers, face twisted into a saddened frown. That was it then. When he brought his gaze back to hers, he was surprised to find that her eyes were rimmed in red, not her irises, but her eyes, fighting back moisture that was building at the corners. He’d never considered that Sith could have tears, but apparently they did. He brought up a hand, thumb brushing away a drop that threatened to escape. Pulling her to him, he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck. He memorized the way she smelled, the way her pulse felt against his skin, the way her hair felt running through his fingers as he reached up to pull at the shimmersilk band that held it in place, letting the mass of waves fall down her back.

“Why can’t you play the stereotypical selfish Sith just this once?” Another rhetorical question left to hang in the air, unanswered.

“I have to go.” Theron wasn’t ready to let her go quite yet. When she tried to back away, he instinctively tightened his grip, wanting to hold onto her for just a little while longer. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, caressing his cheek to her ear, lips brushing against her jaw. He started to press light dragging kisses along her jawline, making his way towards her mouth. The first touch of his lips to hers was tentative, as if he expected her to try and back away again. When she didn’t, and instead brought her hands up to twine her fingers through his hair, his kisses became stronger, more urgent.

Groaning softly, Theron reached out with his tongue and passed the tip over her lips, pleading with her to open her mouth for him. He shifted his hold on her, lifting her off her feet as he slid his tongue against hers, attempting to pour all of the feelings he had for her into one last, lingering kiss. She wound her fingertips down to grip at either side of his head, the sensation of her nails digging into his scalp sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine that he knew could go nowhere. His hands were already on her ass...it would have been so easy to just inch that skirt up with his fingers and wrap her legs around his waist. The wall was only a few steps away. No, that was a decidedly bad idea.

“Stars I’m going to miss you...” He slowly lowered her back to the floor, resting his forehead against hers. 

“And I you." He let her pull away this time, sliding his fingers down her arm to grasp at her hand as she started to move away.

“Find your happiness, Theron...” She turned, making her way to the door and keyed it open, moving aside for Khem to enter to pick up her things.

“ _Nox…_ ”

Hand on the doorframe, she stopped and turned her head, back still to him. “Lelu. My name is Lelu.” And then she walked out of his life.

Theron wanted so very much to tell her that he loved her, but he thought it would only have made things worse. He _had_ opened his mind to her that first morning because he wanted her to see how much he trusted her, how much she meant to him. He hadn’t realized it before, but as he felt her brush his mind with her own, the feeling was there for her to see, a surprise for both of them. But feeling it and saying it were two very different things.

Sighing, he looked down at his hands, realizing that he still clutched at the piece of shimmersilk he had taken from her hair. He studied the gold-colored fabric, weighing it in his hand, then zipped it up securely in an inside pocket of his jacket. He needed to find his composure. His mouth had suddenly gone dry, and he could feel the pressure behind his eyes start to build. He made himself busy picking up his own belongings, wondering what the mission was that she’d mentioned, and if he’d be able to use his contacts to find out. He was not looking forward to telling the Grand Master that he would be joining her on her flagship after all; just the idea of seeing that self-satisfied look on her face made bile rise in the back of his throat.  

 

Yavin Four - Nox

Nox paused just outside the door, letting herself crumple to her knees in relative privacy, if only just for a moment. It didn’t matter that Khem was there to see it; the Dashade would have felt the sharp stab of his master’s pain anyways through their bond. The giant did the only thing he could do – stand there as a pillar for her to draw strength from.

She wanted to be selfish. She wanted more than anything to let Theron come with her. But he was the one thing she couldn’t be selfish about. Even though they were one in the same, she wanted the man she loved to remember her as the woman he’d come to know over the past year, not as the Sith who could and would tear worlds apart to defend the glory of her Empire. He was better off with his own people.

Unable to tarry long for fear of Theron seeing her in such a state, or worse, coming after her, she took a deep breath, drawing on Khem’s unwavering strength to help pull her to her feet. She made her way through the bulk of the ruins, finding Darth Marr waiting for her back at the now dismantled staging area.

“Is it done?”

“Go on ahead to the ship, Khem. Please let Lord Akori’ira know that I will be there shortly.” She inclined her head, pointing her chin in the direction of the landing pad before turning to regard her mentor. “Yes, Marr. It is done. You wanted a word?”

The older Sith descended the stairs, joining her at the bottom. “I am...sorry, Lelu.” His face as ever encased in its expressionless mask, Marr reached out, placing an armored hand on her shoulder, the simple gesture made all the more astounding knowing who it came from. Nox had known the man a long time, and his expressions of emotion were always very far and few between, but it would seem that he was still capable of empathy towards a select few, the use of her real name showing that the gesture was genuine, meant for more than just mentor to mentee. “I could feel how much he meant to you. Use the pain. Let it feed your strength. The Emperor is still out there – you will need it in the days to come.”  

Nox looked up at the blank mask, shielding her eyes from the glare of the setting sun. “May I ask you something?” Rather than answering directly, the older Dark Lord held his hand out, gesturing for her to walk with him. “Have you ever been in love?”

They walked in silence for some time, slowly making a circuit around the interior ruins. As she waited for him to answer, Nox focused on the sounds around them, closing her eyes to hear the birds in the trees, the insects chirping in the overgrown grasses around their feet. She took a deep breath, taking in the smell of the jungle, the way the earthy scent of decaying leaves blended with the sweet flowers, both cut with the smell of sharp, clean rain.

“I have…known the love a father feels for a daughter.” The sound of his synthesized voice startling her out of her reverie, she paused for a moment before continuing with their leisurely stroll. As he had no expression to read, and any trickle of emotion through the Force was kept under tight wraps, Nox had to rely on the inflection of his voice. “And I feel the same pride a father feels when he sees that daughter exceed even his best expectations.” He stopped, turning towards her. “You have overcome much since I found you wandering the streets of Kaas City, a child starving and afraid. You have become all that a Sith should strive to be – powerful, determined, loyal…you refuse to involve yourself in the petty squabbles and posturing that only serve to hinder us all, and you are willing to do what needs to be done for the betterment of the Empire as a whole.”

“You almost make me sound like a Jedi."

Nox watched the faceless mask swivel away from her as he continued forward, hands laced behind his back. “I have no regrets. I have devoted my life to the advancement of the Sith Empire. I do not fear death, and when my time comes, I will go to it knowing that you will continue to lead our people to greatness.” Nox was at a loss for words. There was no expectation for her to say anything, so she didn’t. She continued walking at his side until he turned, making his way towards the main landing pad, motioning to the Wrath to join them. The white Twi’lek sauntered over, striking her signature laid back pose. “Time grows short. While our attentions have been focused here on Yavin Four, the war has continued on elsewhere, and the Empire is losing.” Marr’s faceless mask moved from one woman to the other, flaming red hair to stark black and white tattoos.

“Not to mention the Emperor is still out there, and we know what his end-game is now,” Nox interjected casually.

“Indeed. The Republic stands united while we bicker amongst ourselves. We are now forced to fight a war on multiple fronts. We need resources. The planet Makeb is the secret to victory, and its responsibility is yours.”

The Wrath leaned back further on her hip, bringing a hand to her chin as she wondered what Marr’s game was. “An unaligned colony world on the edge of Hutt Space…why does this matter? And why now?”

The faceless mask swiveled in the Twi’lek’s direction. “Makeb grew rich from mining and trade, becoming a neutral paradise for wealthy cretins. It escaped the war due to its tactical insignificance. But now the Hutt Cartel has seized Makeb for itself.”

Nox was genuinely curious now. The Hutts were gangsters, looking to seize power wherever an opportunity presented itself. “The Hutts are greedy, but they’re not fools. Makeb is important to them somehow.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, the armor-encased Dark Lord began to pace slowly back in forth in front of the two younger Sith, giving his intelligence in a matter-of-fact tone. “The Hutts chose Makeb not for its wealth, but for a substance called isotope-5, a mineral capable of twisting gravity and electromagnetic fields. The Hutts have kept it a secret, but one gram could provide a near-infinite power source. Isotope-5 could remake the Hutts into a force to rival the Republic.”

“And clearly you intend for us to acquire this resource for ourselves.” Nox fixed her mentor with a narrow-eyed gaze, wondering how he planned to execute such a grand objective.

“Precisely, and we have the perfect opportunity to do so.” Turning back towards them, he smacked an armored fist into the palm of his hand for impact. “Despite the efforts of the Hutts’ mercenaries, Makeb’s leaders are requesting aid from the Republic, and the planet is on the verge of chaos. You must steal the Hutts’ stockpile of isotope-5 under cover of the conflict. Stealth is paramount – if the Hutts and Republic realize your intent, they will deploy overwhelming force.”

“Oh, this will be a piece of cake.” The white Twi’lek was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. A new goal, a new planet, a new opportunity for battle. 

“I have all confidence that between the two of you, you will succeed.” The expressionless mask paused on each of them in turn, looking for any signs of hesitation or question, before continuing with a final warning. “We have much to lose. You will be provided with a limited support team of specialists, but for the most part, you will be alone on a hostile world. We cannot afford to mount a full-scale invasion.”

Nodding, the pair of younger Sith spun on their heels, moving off towards the Phoenix. The Wrath looked over to see her friend consumed with a far-off expression. “This will be a good thing, you’ll see. Just like old times.” Nox didn’t care if Marr sent her on a mission to pick up a herd of golden nerfs, as long as it took her mind off of what was really bothering her.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said there would be smexy times in this chapter, but it really felt like it would have taken away from the story here so I ditched it. I think the chapter ended up way better off without it. 
> 
> I took massive creative license on the last romance scene with Theron. The in-game scene just feels so...blah, like the couple really didn't give a whoop-dee-doo about parting ways. And then that last "who needs words..." like it's out of a bad 90's porno. *cringe* But I did use one line from the game! Go me! :P
> 
> And yeah, I totally get that Rise of the Hutt Cartel takes place before Shadow of Revan, but I only heard one small mention of Isotope 5 at the very end scene on Yavin Four. I really wanted to manipulate the story a bit with canon stuff that happens so I can tie it in later...so there's a method to my madness! What better way is there for Nox to get back to her roots than by blowing up a planet? Or saving it? Haven't decided! And sorry for the boring dialogue dump at the end, but I had to set up where we're going next!
> 
> Oh, and the last battle with Revan. I took a bit of creative jazz on it since the real battle is kind of a giant pig pile that would be a rat's nest to write...because friendly fire is actually a thing, lol.
> 
> "Twin Flames"  
> In This Moment
> 
> Baby, watch as I step into flames for you  
> Baby, watch me combust and explode for you  
> Baby, watch as I burn  
> Baby, watch as I burn for you  
> One last time
> 
> We were on fire  
> A frequency of me and you  
> We were on fire  
> One flame bursting into two  
> We were on fire  
> We watched the whole world burn away  
> We were on fire  
> I was you and baby you were me  
> You crawled into these flames with me
> 
> So watch me dance  
> And watch me fly  
> For you, one last show my dear  
> In the purple  
> Baby watch as I crawl  
> Baby watch as I crawl away from you  
> One last time


	14. Love you to Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andronikos spends two days in close quarters with two Sith.  
> Awkwardness ensues.  
> Khem sleeps like the dead.  
> Andronikos finds out where he stands with Nox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll apologize ahead of time about the language (I'd imagine if you're still reading this fic then you don't mind), but I do swear like a drunken sailor in real life, and Nik is a pirate so yeah... :P
> 
> "Love You to Death"  
> Type O Negative
> 
> In her place one hundred candles burning  
> As salty sweat drips from her breast  
> Her hips move and I can feel what they're saying, swaying  
> They say the beast inside of me's gonna get ya, get ya, get...  
> Black lipstick stains her glass of red wine  
> I am your servant, may I light your cigarette?  
> Those lips smooth, yeah I can feel what you're saying, praying  
> They say the beast inside of me's gonna get ya, get ya, get...  
> I beg to serve, your wish is my law  
> Now close those eyes and let me love you to death  
> Shall I prove I mean what I'm saying, begging  
> I say the beast inside me's gonna get ya, get ya, get...  
> Let me love you too  
> Let me love you to death  
> Hey am I good enough  
> for you?  
> Hey am I good enough  
> for you?  
> Am I?  
> Am I?  
> Am I good enough  
> for you?

The _Phoenix_ \- Andronikos

“Where is Talos?” Standing before him with hood uncharacteristically thrown back, her hair an utter mess, the pirate Andronikos Revel saw a woman who was doing her best to hide the fact that she was in pain. Exhausted. Lost. Fearful, as if she expected an ambush. In short, his Sith looked like shit. Andronikos had fought at the side of the Sith Lord who would become Darth Nox for years. Together, they’d been through plenty of narrow scrapes, from chasing down force ghosts to battling their way through a rigged Kaggath, and through it all she’d always managed to maintain her composed air of haughty superiority, but this time she looked like she’d gone one too many rounds with a Krayt Dragon. Whatever, or _whoever_ , had happened to her on the planet had changed her, and it wasn’t for the better. She looked like his Sith, and sounded like her, but she seemed…different, somehow diminished, which was a really flowery way to describe it, but it did the trick.

“He ran off when we landed – said he’d stick to the area around the ship. Guess I should have tied him down.” Nox flashed the pirate a narrow-eyed glare, obviously annoyed that they were now forced to wait for their eccentric resident historian. Apparently even her soft spot for the little nerd didn’t stop her from wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.

“Introductions should not be required, but even so, this is Lord Akori’ira, the Empire’s Wrath. Formerly the Emperor’s Wrath.” Andronikos recognized the white Twi’lek. They’d worked together on Alderaan, back when he’d first met Nox. She was the only woman Nox regarded with a modicum of friendship, and she was as insufferable as she was beautiful. “With her, is Lieutenant Mason Pierce. I know you are not a military crew, but even so, you will provide him with an appropriate level of respect. That means you, Andronikos,” she added, her eyes again landing on him with no small level of irritation. The Imperial lounged against a bulkhead, taking in his surroundings, his casual posture indicating that he was clearly given certain _concessions_ with his Sith master.

“Sorry! I couldn’t help it! Beautiful! Fascinating! Did you know-” Rounding the corner at full speed came the small-statured Reclamations officer, nearly colliding with Khem Val who was still standing in the main doorway carrying his master’s belongings. “-Pardon me, excuse me, my fine red friend!” Squirreling his way around the giant, the tiny man’s eyes landed on the new additions to the crew, namely the imposing leather-clad Twi’lek covered in Sith tattoos. “Oh, my lord, please forgive me! It is an honor, truly an honor!”

“Oh Nox, he is just the most adorable thing,” the Wrath chuckled, watching the excitable little man as if he were a child’s toy. 

“Talos, it was nice of you to finally join us.” Nox spared the slightest quirk of a smile for the man. Andronikos grudgingly admitted that the two were like peas in a pod when it came to the dry, boring tedium that was the sum of Sith history. “Andronikos, make the ship ready for departure and set in a course for Makeb. Be sure to transmit your route to the _Valkyrie_. Afterwards-“

“-Makeb, we going on vacation?”

“ _Afterwards_ , do show the Lieutenant here where he can store his gear.” Nox glossed over the pirate’s question with nary a pause, completely used to his challenging interruptions. Without even casting a glance in his direction, she spun on her heel and made her way to her quarters, the conversation decidedly over.

Andronikos had always prided himself on his ability to push his Sith just far enough, taking things right to the edge, to the very brink of peril. It was like a game to him, a very exciting and often rewarding one. He preferred living life on the edge, feeding off of the adrenaline. He’d missed that. Missed her. Things had grown so stagnant over the past year, he felt like he was suffocating. He’d thought about leaving, many times, even tried to once or twice, but one thing kept drawing him back in – the hope that things could go back to the way they used to be, back to when they were the only two people in the galaxy who mattered.

He did know one thing, however – he didn’t dare mention what he suspected to be the cause of all their – his – problems. That wasn’t a game he was willing to gamble on, because he knew he’d lose. He didn’t see an extra passenger, aside from the Twi’lek and her companion, so at least there was that. And if he ever did meet the man who did this to her, they’d both be dead, because Andronikos would have to kill him, and then she’d finally turn on him. His game would be over in the most final of ways. He supposed it was lucky for him then that she’d done her best to keep him away that whole time. What remained to be seen was if she’d let him back in, now that that sham of an alliance was over and done with, if he was ever really ‘in’ to begin with.

Taking the bundle of Nox’s belongings from Khem Val, the Wrath whispered a few words to the Imperial at her side, sharing a moment that made the both of them giggle like idiots, and then followed after Nox pausing at the door to the master quarters. “I believe that means now, people!” She cast her stormy lavender gaze over the crew, watching them scurry to their respective corners of the ship, all except for one. Andronikos watched as her single eye landed on him, studying him as if he were an object sitting on a shelf waiting to be used. “So _you’re_ the pirate. I remember you. Quite the crack shot with a blaster, if my memory serves me right. You must be something special if she’s kept you around this long.” She flashed him a toothy grin and closed the door, leaving him to wonder what the fuck she was talking about.

\---------------

It was going to take two days to get to Makeb, and Andronikos had no idea what he was going to do with himself that whole time. While Nox was on Yavin Four, he’d passed the time showing Ashara the ropes of piloting the sleek Imperial interceptor, and he had to grudgingly admit that the young Togruta was a natural. He let her plot the course to Makeb and update the navicomputer, and watched over her as she brought the ship to hyperspace. After that, it was easy sailing and he was left to his own devices unless she ran into any problems or needed a break. Normally Nox would keep him busy in his downtime, but the door to her quarters remained firmly locked, at least to him. The Wrath apparently was given leave to come and go as she pleased.

The first night, Andronikos rather miserably resigned himself to an uncomfortable evening spent in the crew bunks, casting a resentful glance towards the lit lock on _their_ quarters as he passed. It would be the first night he’d spent in those uncomfortable shelving units that barely served as beds for years.  

“Joining the common rabble, I see?” The Imperial, Pierce, shot him a knowing look and let out a snarky guffaw as he watched the pirate strip down to his undershorts.

“Just shut the fuck up, seriously.”

“Now, now. Just giving you shit, mate.”

“Whatever.” Andronikos thought about saying something stupid, such as how he was most definitely not the man’s 'mate', but he decided against it. There was no point in starting shit. He just wanted the night to be over, as quickly as possible.

Just as he was starting to drift off to sleep, between the awful grinding snores of the Dashade and the crick that was quickly setting into his neck, he heard a low groan of pleasure followed by a sharp hissing intake of breath. His eye snapped open, bleary in the darkness, to see a white shadowed form hovering over the Imperial’s bunk, making very distinct bobbing motions. _Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me_ , he thought to himself, flipping over and shoving his pillow down over his head in an effort to drown out the now muffled sighs escaping the Imperial’s mouth. Really, one would have thought that someone with such rigorous military training would be able to keep his trap shut. The Dashade appeared to be completely oblivious to what was going on just a few feet away from him because the jack hammer-like snores continued unabated.

After a while, a more feminine moan managed to make its way through the pillow to the pirate’s ear, again robbing him of his chance at finding any semblance of sleep as he was jolted back to full consciousness. Rolling onto his side with an arm firmly holding the pillow wrapped around the back of his head and ears, he opened his eye to stare through the darkness at the wall. The sounds of the pair unabashedly rutting behind him did nothing but force his thoughts to wind through the mess that was his relationship with Nox. And that was a place he did not want to be, not when the object of his frustrations had physically put a lock between them. A flicker of jealousy began to form in his gut, thinking that if all had been right in the galaxy, he’d have been with her right then, probably doing the very same thing they were.

Huffing in defeat, Andronikos grabbed his blanket and rolled out of the bunk, making a bee line for the door. As he passed by the Imperial’s cubby, he saw a small white hand reach out of the darkness to stop him, brushing over his stomach to the front of his shorts, fingers lightly squeezing over the erection that had pushed its way into existence from thinking about Nox, and of course from the sounds that had forced his mind to go there.

“Hmmm, are you sure you don’t want to stay?” The feminine voice wavered slightly, the question left hanging in the air.

Andronikos looked down at the hand making teasing strokes on the outside of his shorts, his excitement growing with each pass of the deft fingers. That the Imperial was right there beneath her became just a minute detail that faded into the background as her hand squeezed at him harder through the thin material. She let out a sharp whimper, her hand desisting in its ministrations for a split second to shimmy down the side of his shorts and circle tightly around him, stroking him hard. Biting down on his lower lip, Andronikos screwed his one eye shut and inclined his head to the ceiling, the feeling of her hand’s rough strokes made in time to her own circular thrusts against the Imperial beginning to carry him away. It would have been so easy to just let her keep going…but...that wasn’t what he wanted. With a growl, he reached out and grabbed her wrist, pushing past the hand to key open the door, finally letting out a ragged breath as he found the relative safety of the hallway.

He would have been lying if he didn’t admit that the offer was tempting. Very tempting. He didn’t have to like the woman to fuck her, and besides, she was gorgeous, and dangerous, just like Nox. Well, not like Nox. Different, but the same. A single image suddenly flashed unbidden into his head, one of him relentlessly fucking the white Twi’lek into the bedsheets while Nox looked on, her eyes darkened with lust knowing that was the very thing he wanted to do to her. Great, that just made things worse. Sighing, he pulled his shorts back into place and leaned against the wall of the narrow corridor, letting the coolness of the metal sink into the skin of his shoulders. What a fucking mess he was in. He should have just let her finish. He was angry…angry at himself, angry at the white Twi’lek, angry at Khem Val for sleeping so soundly, and angry at Nox for pushing him away. He banged his head back against the wall in frustration, pushing himself off from the metal to pace around the common area, eye practically boring a hole through the locked door to the master quarters.

He wondered what would happen if he were to slice the lock on the door and go to her. He wasn’t great with techy crap, but he could at least manage that. No, he’d probably end up with a lightsaber to the gut or force choked up against the wall. It was definitely a smarter, and safer, idea to wait for her to come to him when she was ready. Then again, that last outcome didn’t sound so…no, no, nope – not a good idea.

Wrapping his blanket around his shoulders, he wandered sleepily to the cockpit, finding the Togruta dozing with her cheek resting against her arm on the console. Was it entirely crazy to think of them as one weird ass dysfunctional family? He, Nox, and her apprentice, with the squirrely uncle who lived in the cargo hold? Oh yes, and the pet Dashade. Suppressing a yawn, Andronikos plopped down in the co-pilot chair and double-checked to make sure they were still on course. Satisfied that the Togruta hadn’t lead them astray, he leaned back in the chair, propping his feet up, sleep finding him almost immediately.

\---------------

Andronikos woke to the smell of fresh caf. Cracking his eye open, his vision came to focus on a steaming mug, and next to it sat an engraved silver flask – a gift from Nox that he kept on him all the time, when he was dressed that is. Someone had rifled through his clothes back in the crew quarters to find and put it there in front of him. No wait, his clothes were there too, a fresh set folded neatly off to the side. Sitting up, he let out a strangled gasp as his neck tightened right up, a result of sleeping for too long in the co-pilot’s chair. He stretched, twisting his head from side to side in order to help loosen his aching muscles, the joints of his spine making audible popping sounds as the tension eased. Out of nowhere, a pair of hands came to rest on either side of his neck, fingertips expertly locating the tight knots under the skin like they’d done that very act hundreds of times before. He knew those fingers. And they knew him.

“I see you let Ashara fly my ship.” The sound of the haughtily disinterested voice behind him confirmed the owner of the fingers kneading at his shoulders. His Sith sounded like a completely different person from the detached woman he’d seen board the ship yesterday. She sounded more like herself, as if no time had passed between them.

“Yeah, she’s up to snuff. Caught on real fast,” he mused, glancing over at the Togruta to see that she was still fast asleep on the console. There was no need for her to have stayed at her post through the night; the ship was so advanced it could practically fly itself through hyperspace, provided someone with half a brain plotted a good route. Then again, perhaps it was better that she’d stayed there, considering what was going on in the crew quarters. “There really wasn’t much else to do while we were bored out of our _fucking minds_ waiting around for you, Sith.” Clearly reacting to the challenge in his voice, Nox murmured softly at his ear, dragging her fingertips from his shoulders down the front of his chest, the sensation of her nails biting ever so slightly into the smooth skin sending a shiver down his spine. “And it’s _my_ ship,” he added, leaning forward out of her reach, a stubborn refusal to submit to her charms, at least right away. He grabbed the flask, twisting the top open to pour a good draught of the golden brown liquid into the mug of caf, then held the flask out to the air, offering it to the woman behind him.

“You know I don’t drink that swill, Nik. Rum, so cliché for a pirate,” she quipped. “And when did it become _your_ ship?”

Andronikos picked up the mug and held it between both of his hands, letting the warmth seep into his palms. “Hehe, the minute you let me fly her.” He sagged back into the chair, spinning it around to face the woman who was both the solution to and cause of all his problems. And. She. Was. Different. Wow. He didn’t even know where to start; she looked like she’d taken a page from the Wrath’s fashion manual. She’d cut her hair, losing the hood completely to let the silky waves fall freely to the tops of her shoulder blades, the longer front held out of her face by a series of braids at the top of her head. The loose robes were gone, replaced by a skin tight leather vest, zipped up to just under her now extremely up-front-and-center cleavage. The vest was belted at the waist and flared out over her hips in a loose, flowing split skirt of sorts, exposing her shapely leather-wrapped ass and thighs when she moved. Andronikos was unsure of how it was even possible, but this new look left even less to the imagination than the old one, even though technically less skin was showing. And he loved it, if the distinct twitch in his shorts was any measure. As she stood in front of him with her chin held high, boldly daring anybody to look at her face and the scarification that ran across half of it, she was the picture of deadly beauty. He’d never seen her like this before, but if this was a change brought about by whatever had happened to her on that last planet, it was one change he could very much live with.

Casting a lop-sided smirk down at him, she stalked closer, brushing the pirate’s knees aside one at a time with her own, her split skirts parting around them over his lap. “Ah, well so long as _my_ pirate flies _his_ ship wherever I command, then I suppose we can leave the semantics aside.”

What? Oh yeah, he’d pretty much forgotten what they were even talking about. Setting the mug of caf on the console beside him, he leaned forward slightly, slowly tracing an index finger up the inside seam of her leg, from the edge of her tightly laced boots all the way to the top of her thigh. “Am I now?” He looked up at her through his lashes, a single amber eye locked to emeralds in challenge, his lips quirked into a grin that betrayed exactly where his mind was going.

Nox spared a quick glance towards her slumbering apprentice before bending over to whisper into his ear, her cleavage on a perfect level with his eye, tempting him in very obvious ways. “I think you already know the answer to that question,” she answered with a sultry giggle, nipping sharply at the sensitive skin, hands running over the resultant wash of goosebumps on his neck and shoulders.

The truth was that he really didn’t know the answer to that question, or at least he thought he knew at one time but had started to have doubts over the past year as she’d pulled further and further away. But if she was determined to move on past whatever rift had formed between them, then he was more than willing. He didn’t need time to think things through or wait for an apology that would never come, or harp on about hurt _feewings_ like a wet blanket. He knew what he wanted and that was that. It was that simple. 

Andronikos stood up from the co-pilot’s chair, pushing her back a few inches, their bodies practically touching. “Do I?” He pushed the heel of his hand against her center, squeezing at her through the soft leather, the sound of her hitching breath at his touch reaching him all the way in his groin. “Well, why don’t we go find out?” he asked, watching her pupils dilate for him. The pirate was pleased to note that all of her buttons still worked the same; he knew just which ones to push.

“As much as I’d like to, _my pirate_ , I need to speak with my apprentice.” She backed away, the mask of her cool professionalism visibly slipping back into place. “When she wakes, please send her to me. The Lord Wrath and I have much to discuss with her.” Before she turned away, he saw the slightest ghost of a smile pass over her lips as he made a very mocking attempt at a lordly bow. “Oh, and Nik? Put some clothes on.”

Andronikos watched her turn the corner back into the common area of the ship, leaving him to the soft snuffles of the sleeping Togruta. She was out like a light. He used the opportunity to quickly slip into the clean change of clothes his Sith had brought him, doing his best to hide behind the back of the chair, just in case. Even pirates had limits to their lack of modesty, and for whatever reason, the bristly little padawan-turned-apprentice had taken a liking to him. In fact, it seemed like he was the only person on the ship she didn’t openly view with disdain, including her Master. Perhaps it was because they were both from the Republic, or that she was only a teenager when she joined them on their Sithy journey, but he’d come to feel a sense of responsibility for her. Like a really angsty little sister who could totally kick his ass if she wanted to.

“Hey there, girlie.” He lightly shook her shoulder, jostling her to a form of semi-consciousness. “Want to let me take over for a while? It being my ship and all.” When she started to move, he returned back to the co-pilot’s seat, flopping back down and reaching for his now slightly less hot cup of spiked caf.

“Hmmm?” A single blue eye cracked open, heavy with sleep. “Nikky?” She lifted her head from the console, yawning into a stretch. “Oh, I’m sorry I fell asleep.” She looked disappointed with herself, worried that Andronikos wouldn’t let her fly the ship anymore.

“Hey, it’s ok kid. Go ahead and find something to eat. I’ll take over while I drink my breakfast here,” he added, holding up the mug. “When you’re done, go see your Master. Apparently she has something big to talk to you about.” He watched the Togruta’s expression harden at the mention of her Master. “You don’t like her much, do you?”

Her brows shot up in surprise at his question. “No, I do…well, it’s complicated.”

“Is anything involving a Sith not complicated?”

“I suppose,” she laughed. “I hated her at first, but now I think I understand her. And she’s trying to make things better.” Getting to her feet, she huffed, knitting her brows into an angsty frown. “I guess I respect her. But she’s so...I can’t even find a word for it.”

“Hehe, I get you. Go on, I got this.” He grinned, spinning back around in his chair while the apprentice left him to enjoy his toasty breakfast in silence, staring out at the beautiful streams of hyperspace as they whipped by.

\---------------

He spent the majority of the day in the cockpit of the _Phoenix_ , feet kicked up on the console, watching holovids. He had no interest in being lulled to sleep by Talos’s excited yammering over Sith history, and he really had no interest in seeing the Wrath’s smug face turned on him after what had happened the previous night, especially now that his mind kept going back to that little fantasy image of him with the two Sith. Chuckling to himself, he wondered if Nox would be down with something like that. He knew she and the Wrath had a history beyond friendship. Maybe he would mention it to her, when the time was right. He had no interest in the white Twi’lek romantically whatsoever, but this wasn’t about that.

Sometime in the afternoon, boredom won out and he peeked his head out into the common area. He felt a flicker of relief when he saw that the door to the conference room was still tightly sealed, indicating that the resident Sith were still busy. Stomach grumbling, he made his way to the galley, hoping to find something half-way decent to eat. As he rounded the corner, he came face to face with the Imperial, who had apparently made himself at home. The man was sitting with his back to the wall, feet casually propped up on the table, stuffing his face with a sandwich.  

“Best stick to one of these, mate. Whatever that droid threw together is not food.”

Leaving an air of awkward silence to float about in the air between them, Andronikos set about arranging what resembled an edible sandwich, then plopped down in a chair across from the other man. “Any idea why we’re going to Makeb?” The pirate reached down to his pocket for the silver flask and unscrewed the top, proffering it to the other man.

Pierce took the flask and held it in the air with a nod in thanks before taking a swig. “Mission to get our hands on something top secret, right out from under the noses of the Hutts and the Republic. Should be heaps of fun. Covert ops – the shit I live for.” He took another swig and handed the flask back.

“I heard we had quite an alliance going with the ‘pubs on Yavin Four. I take it that’s over?” He knew damn well that the alliance was over, but hearing about the Republic reminded him that Pierce had been on Yavin Four, and his curiosity was getting the better of him.

“Yeah, what of it?” the solider asked, eyes narrowing warily.

Andronikos took a swig of the rum, trying his best to act casual. “You happen to know anything about one particul-“

“-and what do you think that will get you?” he interrupted, clearly knowing way ahead of time what the pirate was getting at. “Pick your battles, mate. It’s not worth it. She’s here. He’s not.” He got to his feet and started to make his way to the door, pausing as he passed by the pirate. “You know just as well as me how this whole thing works. It’s their show – we’re just here for the ride.” Popping the last bit of sandwich into his mouth, he slapped the pirate on the back and swaggered out of the room, leaving snickers of amusement to drift back into the galley as he went.

He was right, of course. From his perspective. But Andronikos wondered if _Captain Empire_ would be so lackadaisical if his Sith started to act _off_ and he knew it was because someone else had gotten under her skin. Maybe it _had_ happened, who the hell knew. Things appeared to be looking up anyways.

He finished his meal in silence, musing at the wall. He wondered what sort of excitement their trip to Makeb might bring, and what would happen after, once he and Nox had had a chance to work together again. It had been more than a year since he’d fought at her side, and he was itching to get the chance to do so again. He didn’t know what he would do if she didn’t take him again, probably flip a shit, but he was the logical choice. Covert ops stuff and a giant red force-eater? Not so much. She’d need him on this one.

When he was done, he brushed the crumbs onto the floor and made his way to the master quarters. His stuff was all there. It had been there for years. Clothes. Toiletries. Blasters. Stash of booze. He noted the sword he had given to her hanging on the wall, and couldn’t help scowling a bit when his eye passed over that damned infernal flower on the night stand. He grabbed his leather shoulder holster and brought it to the desk, unclipping the blaster pistols from it and laying them out in front of him. It had been too long since he’d cleaned them, but he needed to be sure that they were in working order if he was going to be of any use on Makeb. He’d gotten out of the habit of properly taking care of them a long time ago, that and he just didn’t like doing it. Besides, Nox had never liked the smell and had even gone out of her way to find a brand of cleaning oil that carried less of a heady scent for him back when they’d first met.

Sighing to himself, he picked up the first one and broke it down, carefully laying out each piece in an organized order so that it could be re-assembled with relative ease. He grabbed the cleaning cloth and started to go to town on each piece, inspecting it for any damage or wear that could otherwise render the blaster less than perfect. Some people may have found the process relaxing, but Andronikos just found it tedious. Boring. He’d rather be using them than taking care of them. Maybe that was why he never kept the same ones for very long. They were just tools to him.

One down, one more to go. He paused, reaching for his flask, and was thoroughly annoyed to find it empty. Getting up from the desk, he walked across the room to dig through his private stash of booze. Various whiskies, Kaasi Brandy, Shesharilian Vodka - Nox's favorite, and of course, several bottles of rum. 

“Thank you for taking care of this for me.” With his back to the door, he hadn’t noticed Nox practically materialize into the room. Decidedly in no hurry to acknowledge her presence, he finished filling the flask, rum of course, careful not to spill any drops, and turned to see her regarding the flower on the night stand. That figured.

“Yeah, well I figured if I let it die, you’re throw me out an airlock, so…” He saw the faintest shadow of a frown pass over her expression before disappearing as if it never happened. Even though he did mean it as a joke, he needed to change the subject, fast. “So, that new get up…that for my benefit?” he asked, taking a few steps in her direction.

Nox laughed, a wonderful mix of cool indifference and sensuality. “I can assure you, there is practicality behind it. My fighting style has changed a bit since we were last together, and I needed more room for movement.” She closed the space between them, eyes already growing dark with her intentions. She slid her hands up over her curves to the zipper at her chest, starting to inch it down ever so slightly. “I assume you approve?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question,” he chuckled, his mockery of her earlier response to him not going unnoticed. He reached up, grabbing her hand at the zipper. “There is one thing I need to know first. You told me yesterday that it wasn’t the time. Well, now is the time.” He started to slowly drag the hand with the zipper down to her navel, exposing more of her breasts as they were released from the tight constrictions of the leather, his eye locked to hers in question.

“Yes. I…need you at my side.” That was the answer he was looking for. He slid a hand between her skin and the vest, watching her pupils dilate further as his fingers squeezed at the soft flesh.  

“Damn straight.” Dipping his head, he nuzzled into her neck, lips quirking into a smile when he felt her pulse start to pick up in anticipation from the inevitable threat of his teeth.

“Look, Nik,” she started, the words tinged with a slight bit of desperation as her body continued to respond to his touch. “I know I may not always show it, but I do…appreciate you.” She bit down on the side of her lip, stifling a whimper when his fingers roughly pinched at the nipple. “It can’t be easy, but I think that’s part of the reason why you continue to stay – you would be bored anywhere else.” He was doing his best at trying to make her lose her words. He’d heard enough. He didn't need anything else, at least not right now. “And we keep each other on our toes. Anyways, I just wanted to say-"

He bit down sharply at the nape of her neck, her words forgotten mid-sentence around a hiss.

“You can keep any sappy declarations of affection that you think I might want or need, Nox," he growled into the skin, tongue laving at the mark he'd left behind. “You know that’s not my style.”

“Well, what is it that you want, then?” she questioned, taking his lower lip between her teeth, eyes narrowing on his in playful challenge.

Game. On.

He groaned, low in his throat, coaxing her into a rough kiss with his tongue in answer to her challenge. Teeth...tongue...lips...they all served as a distraction so that he could push her arms up over his shoulders, forcing her to support herself as he grabbed at her ass, unceremoniously hiking her into the air.    

“Right now? Your fucking cunt in that bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for the use of the "c" word at the end...I did some reading on it and I guess some people find it offensive while others don't. I couldn't think of anything else to use in that context that would fit his personality as I envision it. Nothing really offends me, and that word used in that context works for me. :/
> 
> Seriously, could you imagine him using the word "love button" or something? :P


	15. Titanium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team "lands" on Makeb. We find out what Nox needed to talk to Ashara about. Nox and Nikki have a surprisingly normal moment (well, as normal as can be for a Sith and pirate)...and I continue to paint myself into a corner with him. :/
> 
> I was listening to "Titanium" by Within Temptation, a wonderful rock cover of the original.

Makeb – Nox 

“Everybody in one piece?” Sound off!” Of the two Sith, Lord Akori’ira was the one who had been involved in the most military operations. The Twi’lek rarely appeared to take things seriously, but when all was said and done, she did run a military ship, and from time to time, it showed. They were warned that the shuttle trip to the planet surface would be rough, something about how the atmosphere interacted with ship navigation, but this was a full-out crash landing.

“The word ‘bumpy’ would _not_ have been my first choice to describe that landing.” Hissing through her teeth at a sharp pain in her side, Nox quickly cast about with the Force, assessing the extent of any damage – a large scratch that would leave a nasty bruise. Could have been much worse.

“Fucking pathetic excuse for a pilot! Should have let me fly this bucket.”

“Yes, yes we know, Nik. You can fly anything.” Unfastening the top of her flight harness, Nox leaned forward, snaking her hand around the seat to feel for a pulse at the pilot’s neck. “And that ‘pathetic excuse for a pilot’ is dead.”

“Well, at least it’s not much of a loss..." He whipped out a pocket knife, cutting himself free of his harness and shimmied forward to cut the rest of Nox’s harness free. Andronikos looked up at her with his signature smirk, an angry gash spread across his right cheek.

“Looks like you’re going to get a new addition to your collection,” Nox observed, gripping him by the chin to probe the gash with the Force. Healing with the Dark Side was not a delicate nor pleasant process, and the skin knitted together roughly, leaving a jagged line. She wiped most of the remaining blood away with her thumb, smearing the rest across his dark cheek.

The pirate growled, low in his throat, wincing at the less-than-pleasant healing touch. “You always know how to hurt me in the best of ways, Sith.”

“...and you love every moment of it.”

“Hey! Knock it off, you two. Pierce?” Kira squirmed against her restraints, attempting to turn around in her seat. “Pierce?” Rage flashing in her eye, she grabbed at the straps over her shoulders, ripping them free from the seat. “Mason?”

Andronikos slid back towards the aft of the ship, finding the Lieutenant knocked unconscious from what appeared to be a nasty bump to the head. “He’s alive. Just out cold. Looks like a chunk of the hull came loose and knocked him good.” Planting his feet firmly on the uneven floor, he lifted the metal sheet with both hands, attempting to shove it off the burly soldier. “Yeah, this isn’t gonna budge without some help.”

“Kira, go look for a way to reach our contact. We need to find out where we are. Andronikos and I will work on getting the Lieutenant free.” The white Twi’lek fixed her friend with a narrow-eyed glare, making no move to acquiesce to the order. “You know that I am better with moving objects and healing with the Force. We can’t assess any injuries until he’s free. _Go_.”

Bristling, the two Sith momentarily stared each other down, both searching for dominance. After what seemed like an entirely inappropriate amount of time given the situation, Akori’ira huffed, finally giving in, and roughly kicked her booted foot against the bulkhead door, the impact from her Force-enhanced kick sending the metal flying. She hopped out of the ship, leaving a steady stream of expletives to drift back into the cabin as she searched about for the communicator that had been thrown from the cockpit during the crash.

Nox turned her attention to the unconscious Imperial. “Stand back.” She held her arms out, hefting the piece of hull with her mind, and threw it aside. Kneeling down beside the man, she placed a hand on his forehead, finding that he had been very lucky. Pierce would wake with one hell of a headache, but he was otherwise uninjured.

“You’re hurt. Let me look at that.” Andronikos had noticed the large scratch down her side, running from the bottom of her rib cage down to her hip. Whatever it was, the offending object had managed to rip through the leather of her vest, exposing the skin beneath. The wound had barely bled, but the area surrounding was already starting to bruise.

“It’s nothing.” She got to her feet, twisting her torso to get a better look. “Figures, we haven’t been here an hour and I’ve already ruined my vest,” she sighed. “If I’d stuck to the robes, it would have only gotten skin.”

“Yeah? And it probably would have been much worse. All that leather is good for something at least. Hold still,” he ordered, getting down on one knee to slather some kolto over the area.

Nox let Andronikos tend to her in silence, welcoming the soothing coolness as he rubbed the gel into her skin. She’d never been very good at healing herself, so she depended on the pirate when the need arose. He may have had little regard for others, but she’d learned a long time ago that when it came to her own safety, the man was fiercely protective. There had been numerous times in the past when he’d practically, well maybe not so practically, more like literally, held her down to inspect an injury. Sure, she could have flung him into a wall if she’d wanted, but she let him get away with it, most of the time. There were very few people who would dare cross that line, and Andronikos was one of them; that was one of the things that drew her to him. He didn’t bow and scrape like so many in the Empire. He looked her right in the eye and pushed just as much as she pulled. He wasn’t afraid of her, and where many Sith would have cut him down for his insolence, she welcomed his challenges, even though they could be trying at times.

Her thoughts began to drift, the sensation of the hands on her side calling forth more recent memories of another who wasn’t afraid of her, who challenged her, who also insisted on tending to her scrapes and bruises himself. The memories threaded together, weaving in and out and around, two men so different and yet still similar. A flicker of pain shot through her gut, making her breath catch in her throat. The pirate assumed he’d just touched a tender spot, but in reality, she’d allowed her mind to open a door that needed to stay slammed shut. She’d have to be more careful, and hoped that in time it would be easier to keep that door closed.

Looking down at the scarred man, a ghost of a smile passed over her features. She genuinely did care for him. No, that wasn't it. Why was she trying to kid herself? Something clicked inside her head as she watched him care for her, like a light turning on, and she realized then and there, right in that moment, that she did love him, and she had loved him all along...she'd just never realized it before. How could she have missed it? It wasn’t the same as the vast torrent that threatened to burst through the closed door in her heart, it was more of a slow burn, something that had already settled into her bones because it had been there for so long. She brought up a hand, caressing the pirate’s cheek at her side.

“Better?” he asked, wiping the excess gel on his pants as he got to his feet.

Nox grabbed the leather holster straps at his shoulders, pulling him to her. “Much. Thank you,” she teased into his ear, secretly thanking him for more than just his medical attentions.

“You two about done, so you can help me up?”

Andronikos rolled his one good eye, thoroughly annoyed at such a rude interruption. “How’s that head treating ya?” he dug, leaning past Nox to heft the Imperial to his feet with an offered forearm.

Pulling an armored glove from his hand, Pierce rubbed at the bump on his head, expression betraying none of the pain and dizziness Nox knew the man must have been experiencing. He was very good at playing a hard-ass. “Well enough to still be able to kick your arse.” Laughing dismissively, he replaced his glove and hopped out of the cabin to the solid ground beneath, turning back to place his fists at his hips in mock challenge.

“Really? Care to make that bet?” Andronikos hopped down after the Lieutenant, leaving Nox to follow last. Sighing to herself, she left the men to their posturing. Let them have their fun. They were alone and as long as they followed protocol when they needed to, that was all that mattered, and she knew that Kira felt the same. The women may have been powerful Sith leaders to everybody else, but to the men, they were also lovers, respectively. There was no point standing on useless formality in private. It would have been far too exhausting.

Akori'ira had been watching the two men from a distance, a single tattooed brow quirked in curiosity at the amusing display. Her task seemingly complete, she jogged over to the downed ship, the smile split across her face a clear indicator that she was pleased the Lieutenant had made it out of the crash uninjured. “Are we finished with the measuring of the dicks, or do you boys need a minute?”

“Apologies, m’lord. Just explaining to our friend here that I’m ready for action.” Involuntarily coming to attention, Pierce turned to the white Twi'lek, relaxing a little when he saw the grin on her face.

“I can see that.” Her smile faded into a slightly softer expression as she leaned in closer to the burly soldier. “I’m glad you’re alright, Mason.”

“Kira, were you able to reach anybody?” The time for games had grown short. Someone was bound to have seen that crash, and Nox wanted to be sure that their cover hadn't been blown.

“Yes,” the Twi'lek nodded, pointing her chin away from the ship to get the team moving. “For obvious reasons, our support team can’t land.” She chuckled, waving a hand back towards the wreckage behind them. “There’s a gravity hook nearby that we need to take – should be child's play. Just some mercs. From there, our team can dock along with the Phoenix and Valkyrie and deploy a force large enough to hold it.” Pausing momentarily, Akori'ira lowered her voice, but still spoke loud enough for the men to hear. “Nox, are you sure you think she's ready for a command of her own?”

Nox considered her answer carefully, thinking back on the conversation the two Sith had with the Togruta during the trip through hyperspace.

> “ _Master, you asked to see me?” Rather than her normal air of disdain, this time her apprentice wore a mask of uncertainty as her eyes flicked between the two Sith Lords, finally moving to settle on the holo image of Darth Marr floating above the conference table. Her brows shot up as she recognized her Master's armor-encased mentor, realizing that whatever the Sith wanted with her, it was important._
> 
> “ _Yes, please sit down, Ashara,” Nox responded, waving her apprentice to a chair on the other side of the table, right in front of Khem Val who stood resolute against the wall. She could sense the Togruta's hesitation. “It's alright, you have nothing to fear.”_
> 
> “ _Yes, Master.” Apparently Nox's reassurance did little to assuage her apprentice's fears, as the young woman sat rigid in the chair, wary of her surroundings._
> 
> “ _Let's not waste time standing on ceremony.” Nox sat back in her chair, steepling her fingers in contemplation. “Lord Akori'ira also has an apprentice,” she started matter-of-factually, “a former padawan like yourself. But, unlike you, Ashara, she has descended to madness.” Nox spared a sideways glance to the Twi'lek at her left before bringing her gaze back to the nervous Togruta across the table. “Her mind is weak. She could not handle the freedoms that were given to her upon becoming Sith. Such things have happened before,” she continued, quirking her lips into a slight smile. She'd always found it difficult to resist the small twinge of superiority she felt when she discussed their emotionally wooden counterparts. “Jedi are forced to repress their emotions for so long, that many do tend to...overcompensate...when they get a taste of what it feels like to be Sith.”_
> 
> _Ashara did not appear surprised at all with the concept of crazed former Jedi. Relaxing a bit, she sat back in her chair, clearly wondering where the conversation was going and what she had to do with it. Lounging comfortably, one leg folded neatly under the other, Akori'ira took over with the explanation. “The girl has a remarkable ability to be able to sense one's true nature, which if harnessed correctly, could be used to our advantage.” The Twi'lek shifted in her chair, throwing her tchun over her shoulder to wrap securely around her neck. “However, she has come to the rather...radical conclusion that any Sith who has not completely embraced the Darkest side of the Force should be culled, and has taken it upon herself to attempt to do just that.”_
> 
> “ _She is a danger, to herself, and to everyone around her.” The image of the faceless Dark Lord floating above the table spoke up, the apprentice's lips quirking into a hardened frown in response as the weight of the Sith's words sunk in._
> 
> _Nox had always had strong feelings regarding the topic of personal choices and beliefs. She carried them with her from her old life, having lived under the yoke of another's control for so long. During that more-than-dark part of her life, she'd been forced to say and do things that had left many scars, both mentally and physically. The idea that a weak-minded Sith would needlessly strike down an ally simply for having inclinations toward the Light side served to incite her rage. The entire concept of being Sith was to break chains, not forge new ones, and that meant interpreting the Code however one saw fit. Eyes narrowed in barely-contained anger, she laid her palms flat on the table for support. “I don't care if a Sith is as pure as new-fallen snow, so long as their intentions align with the advancement of the Empire.”_
> 
> _Her mentor's expressionless mask panned in her direction, giving a slight nod of agreement. “We will never be able to unite behind a common goal and forge the Sith Empire into a force that can withstand against, and outlast, our enemies if we continue to be slaves to old beliefs.”_
> 
> “ _Ashara,” Nox continued, returning her attention to the Togruta. “You and I have talked at length about your similar opinions on the matter.” Elbow resting on the table, she held up a hand, palm to the ceiling, going on to state the obvious. “We may not agree on everything, but I believe we are of the same mind on this.”_
> 
> _The Togruta shifted in her seat, not sure if she was pleased or uncomfortable with her Master's scrutiny. “Yes, Master. That is the reason why I chose to follow you in the first place. You helped me interpret the Sith Code for myself, and I am honored to be by your side...” her eyes flicked nervously between the two Sith in the room and the third via holo, “even though I may not always show it. But you have always encouraged me to find my own way, and for that I have given you my respect and loyalty.” She smiled loosely, embarrassed at having to add that last bit. Nox knew that her apprentice's prickly nature was just part of who she was. The two truly mixed like oil and water in the beginning, but they'd quickly come to an understanding. Just as Theron had learned over time, Ashara had learned that not all Sith were the same. And when Nox had succeeded to the Dark Council, the two had become even closer, as they both learned that they had newfound influence and voice. Being apprentice to a Dark Lord of the Sith carried weight in itself._
> 
> “ _And those are exactly the traits we would like to cultivate within a new Sith Empire.” Marr's attention settled on the Togruta, addressing the apprentice directly. “Sith who see strength in standing together, who have a sense of loyalty other than only to themselves. That is the only way we will be able to ensure our survival.” Making a sweeping gesture to the women in the room, the older Dark Lord regarded each of them in turn. “Continuing to perpetuate the belief that Sith only care about their own pleasures and petty exploits, a flaw that many of our brethren are guilty of, will only bring about our downfall. We must be willing to evolve in order to succeed.”_
> 
> _Rising from her seat, Akori'ira began pacing behind Nox, tchun and tchin twitching in agitation. The tight leather wrapping her body made a distinct creaking sound with each movement, betraying the Twi'lek's position as she paced from side to side. “I've tried to guide her, but though I'm loathe to admit it, I have failed my apprentice. Try as I might, I could not make her see,” she sighed, throwing up her arms in a gesture of defeat. “There's a difference between following the Dark Side and only taking pleasure in pain and suffering and fear. I helped free the Dread Masters on Belsavis, and later I fought them on Oricon, and what I saw in them I see in my apprentice.” Nox had heard about the exploits of the Dread Masters, and Kira had told her that the powerful Sith Lords had even tried to force her friend to join their ranks. She was very glad to have missed out on those particular campaigns._
> 
> “ _As it stands now, she represents everything we are trying to excise from our ranks,” the older Sith added, smashing one armored fist into the opposite palm in an effort to reinforce his statement._
> 
> “ _Master, I don't understand. Where do I come in?” Ashara leaned forward, ice blue eyes narrowed on her Master in wary curiosity._
> 
> “ _I believe it is time for you to take an apprentice of your own.” The pacing behind her came to a stop and Nox felt hands grip at the back of her chair. She leaned back, again steepling her fingers in front of her. “Let us help you guide her, to bring her back from her path of destruction before it is too late.”_
> 
> “ _Showing her the ways of the Dark Side has only caused her to become more and more irrational.” The words above her were spoken with no lack of resentment. Nox knew that it took a lot for Kira to admit that her first attempt at working with an apprentice had backfired. Whether it was her fault, or entirely the fault of the girl, only time would tell. Not all Sith were cut out to be teachers and she wondered if in time the Twi'lek would try with another. Nox herself had had several over the years, though none for long, other than Ashara. Out of all, the Togruta had the most promise._
> 
> _Ashara's gaze hardened on the Wrath, her lip curling in anger ever so slightly as she spoke. “Forgive me, but don't you follow the Dark Side yourself? I mean, what did you expect?” she added, shrugging her shoulders as if it should be common knowledge that dark begets dark. Thoroughly disappointed in her apprentice's assumption, Nox took on a rigid posture, jaw set in determination, the fiery flash of her eyes showing her displeasure. The girl knew better; her own Master followed the Dark Side . She was just looking for Kira to roll over even more. Thinking on it, Nox had to laugh to herself; the girl may not have wanted to admit it, but she was most definitely a Sith._
> 
> “ _It's alright, Nox. Let the girl question.” The Twi'lek rested a hand on her friend's shoulder, squeezing lightly. “I do, but I also wouldn't go so far as to torture innocents just for the sake of it. Jaesa would.” She removed her hand, returning to her slow pacing. “She leaves a wake of dead bodies every time she returns from shore leave, and her only explanation is that she gets bored easily. I don't think I would trust her alone for even five minutes with a small animal,” she mused. “I did not teach her that. I taught her to embrace her emotions and take strength from them, to do what she has to in order to get the job done, but even I have a line that I don't like to cross.” Returning to her seat, she plopped down unceremoniously, sighing at the obvious. “Look, you and I are both aliens in an Empire that turns its nose up at anything other than human.” Elbow on the table, she held up one hand in front of her. “Your Master used to be a slave, also less than human,” she continued, holding up the other hand, her single lavender eye flicking to her right towards Nox. “We all have a unique perspective on what it means to be Sith because those traits will follow us for the rest of our lives. We'll never escape them.” She threaded her fingers together in front of her, tattooed brows quirked in thought. “Perhaps the hardships given us from our origins are what kept us strong, still keep us strong, strong enough to realize that the Dark Side doesn't have to exist without compassion or loyalty or even friendship.”_
> 
> _Nox was surprised at the depth of her friend's explanation. She had to remind herself that the Wrath could be so much more than she appeared. She played the 'rancor in a china shop' act very well, but she was also capable of very deep thought. It was one of the reasons why they had grown so close at the academy, and were able to pick up their relationship as if no time had passed when they reconnected. Most of the time, they were of like mind, even though outwardly they appeared to be very different._
> 
> “ _How can you expect me to succeed where you have failed?” Showing her uncertainty, the apprentice was grasping at straws. Nox had every faith that she would succeed; she wouldn't have suggested it otherwise._
> 
> “ _What the three of us don't have...” Kira responded, her lips quirked into a smirk as she pointed a slender white finger at the Togruta, “that you do, is your background with the Jedi. I never thought I'd say it, but we could use that insight to give the girl some balance.”_
> 
> _Folding his arms behind his back, Marr left them with one final statement, panning his faceless mask towards Ashara. “Your Master has faith in you, child. Succeed and we will be that much closer to our common goal.”_

Momentarily upset with herself for thinking about he-who-should-not-be-named, Nox clenched her fists at her side, her far-off gaze not going unnoticed by the woman before her. Her friend knew how painful memories could be, and reached out to place a leather-clad hand on her shoulder, a tattooed brow quirked in concern. Kira tilted her chin, indicating that they should continue forward to the path that lead towards the merc encampment ahead.

Nox took a deep breath, taking in the beauty of the planet around her – red rock cliffs, rolling grassy hills, floating tussocks of rocky outcroppings, clear blue sky, and a wonderful light breeze. Feeling the cool air running through her hair was a new sensation that she quite enjoyed, seeing as she had most often carried it tightly bound under a heavy hood until recently. She was happy to be there, with Kira and with Andronikos. She couldn't waste time dwelling on things that weren't meant to be – she had to move ahead, and this was just the thing she needed. They walked on in silence until she remembered that she hadn't yet answered the Twi'lek's question regarding Ashara. “She's ready, Kira. The four of us will handle the heavy lifting and Ashara will command the forces deployed to hold our base of operations, along with Jaesa.” She spared a sidelong glance at the Wrath, studying her friend's expression for any sign of hesitation. “It will be a good opportunity for them to get to know each other. And Khem will be there to knock some sense into them if the need should arise,” she laughed, hoping to add some levity to the situation.

“I hope you're right. We don't need an incident. And you heard Marr, if she steps out of line one more time then she's done. I can't keep cleaning up her messes and he doesn't want to risk her turning on us.” The woman genuinely appeared fearful, though Nox couldn't tell if it was for the safety of her apprentice or for the precarious position the foolish girl had put them all in.

“Don't worry. If anything should go a awry, I'll be the first to know through Khem. And between the two of them, Ashara and Khem are every bit as strong martially as we are.”

Pierce scouted ahead of the group, reaching a bend in the path ahead. Holding out a hand to command silence, he unholstered his rifle and moved away around the bend in order to gauge the position of the merc encampment, which should have been just up ahead according to the intel Kira had gained from their contact. After a few moments, the Lieutenant returned, an expression of pure business painted across his face. “M'lord, did you happen to catch who the mercs were?”

“Heh, the named sounded like a bad band…Inter-Stellar something-or-other."

“Regulators. Pussies,” he responded dryly, rifle held at rest in front of him. “Once you round the bend, you'll see the gravity hook. Can't miss it. About one click to the north.” His eyes flicked towards Nox as he continued his assessment. “We'll need to slip past the turrets they have lined up at the border. Shouldn't be too difficult if your sneaky trick can cover all of us.”

Nox quirked her lips into a smirk, amused at such a trivial notion. He'd learn soon enough.

“So, kill some mercs. My kind of party,” Andronikos added with a growling laugh, patting at a blaster holstered under his left arm.

“Excellent,” Kira grinned wickedly, the promise of battle adding a distinct glimmer to her eye. “Oh, and our contact also mentioned that there have been random ground quakes hitting lately, whatever that means. Can’t imagine how that would be an issue,” she added with a slight frown. She brought a hand to her belt, unclipping the saber hilt at her waist. “Care to make a bit of a game of it? Last to the top buys the drinks!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a word on Jaesa. It always bothered the ever-loving crapola out of me that she either turned into Snow White, or into Cruella de Vil, complete with her crazy personal quest to destroy every last Dalmation. If you haven't figured already, both Lelu and Kira waver between Dark 1 and Dark 2. They're Sith...they do bad things...they can get carried away. But they're not monsters. They believe in loyalty and mutual goals and they can practice restraint should the need arise. They make the occasional Light choice because that's how I roll...I play them how I think they would respond, not just to make a Dark choice for the sake of being Dark. It makes complete sense to me that Kira would struggle with having a sociopath for an apprentice, because BioWare left us with no middle ground. Even if you play a pragmatic Sith, you still end up with one cray cray bitch to deal with. And then I saw how well a pragmatic Nox can get on with Ashara...and how she would be perfect to help beat some sense into "girl gone wild."
> 
> So sorry for the delay with this chapter. I made the mistake of spoilering myself on the upcoming Flashpoint. Don't do it, don't don't, just don't. Taking stuff completely out of context is never a good idea. Only a couple more days. And then I got a new computer so I had to play catchup. Hopefully will go back to weekly (or sooner) updates!


	16. Rebel Yell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andronikos and Pierce walked into a bar... ;0)  
> Vette!  
> People-watching ensues.  
> Nikki learns where Nox got her new moves  
> Sith being Sithy
> 
> I was listening to "Rebel Yell" by Drowning Pool...a great hard rock cover of the original.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter has been ear-marked for a rework. The plot will not change.

Makeb – Andronikos

“Looks like you two are buying when we get off this planet and celebrate.” Andronikos and Nox stepped off the elevator to find the white Twi'lek and Pierce lounging casually on a cushioned bench, the bodies of quite a few mercenaries scattered at their feet.

“Except that you cheated,” Nox scolded, a touch of laughter coloring her response. “You left all the mercs at the bottom for us and ran right for the lift.” He wanted no part of their wager, but it was obvious that the results were expected and his Sith didn't seem bothered by it. The pair picked their way through the litter of bodies, noting that the tally was about equally drawn between death by lighstaber versus death by blaster. The ones who died by the Wrath's blade were the lucky ones. They died quick.

The pirate thought it was well enough that they were left alone at the bottom of the gravity hook. It gave him time to work side by side with his Sith again. The two of them against the galaxy – the way things should have been. Just like old times. Well, not exactly like old times. It had been over a year since he'd seen Darth Nox in battle, and she wasn't lying when she said that her techniques had changed a bit in that time. He could see why she had given up the lower robes typically worn by Force wielders. Without them, her leather-bound legs were given a free range of movement. All of the same moves he had seen her use in the past were still there, but she was that much more graceful, supplementing her channeled lighting with an amazing display of acrobatics. It was all he could do to watch as she engaged the first of the mercenary forces, materializing out of nowhere to spin freely through the air, her split skirts swirling about her, lips curled into a wild grin as she experienced the thrill of the kill with a charged swipe of her saberstaff. The mercs didn't even know what hit them until it was too late.

He and his Sith had fought to the gravity hook as quickly as they could, but of course the Wrath and _Captain Empire_ had already gotten there. The area at the top resembled a miniature transit station of sorts, complete with a small bar, sets of tables and chairs in a dining area, as well as a lounge, all arranged in a circle around the elevator at the center. Splitting off the central ring were several doors leading off to a row of sleeping quarters, conference rooms, and the docking bay.

“I do hope that while we were doing most of the work,” Nox sighed, folding her arms across her chest, “you at least contacted the ships and ordered them to dock.” She threw the Twi'lek a slightly annoyed look as she watched her friend reclining against the back of the bench, legs idly swinging in time to whatever crazy music was running through the woman's head.

Rolling her one good eye, the Wrath popped up to her feet, dusting her hands on her leather-wrapped thighs. “Of course,” she giggled. As if on queue, Andronikos heard a hollow thud, quickly followed by a slight vibration through the floor, signifying the arrival of one of the ships. “Showtime.”

The two Sith moved off to stand in front of the hallway leading from the docking bays, their masks of 'Sithy Superiority' slipping on almost instantaneously. It was remarkable how quickly they could go from playful, friendly, _almost-normal_ people, to pure business in no time flat, and Andronikos had never grown used to it in all the years he'd spent at her side. He loved it, because it kept him on his toes. He may have enjoyed the rush of pushing his boundaries with his Sith, but he knew when to behave, so to speak. Thrill-seeking asshole with occasional bouts of murderous tendencies? Absolutely. Fool with a death wish? Not so much. _Captain Empire_ was the same way, to a lesser extent. The man was trained by the Imperial military after all, and it did show. He always addressed his Sith with a certain level of deference, even when it was just the four of them. He laughed to himself, wondering if that same deference carried over into more _private_ matters. He'd already gotten a small glimpse, but that wasn't exactly _private_.

As the two men took up positions behind their respective Sith, they heard the hiss of an airlock, followed by voices. Ashara and Talos, most likely accompanied by a silent Khem Val. Rounding the corner from the airlock, the Togruta saw her Master and hurried forward to join her. “Hey kid, be thankful your landing was better than ours,” Andronikos snickered, hoping to bring a smile to the apprentice's face, but earning only a sheepish grimace in return. She'd told him about what the two Sith had asked of her, and he knew she was very nervous about it, afraid of failure. Nox was right, the kid was ready. And if the Wrath's apprentice was as nutty as they made her out to be, if she so much as looked at either of his girls wrong, he wouldn't hesitate to put a blaster bolt right between her eyes. He glanced over at Khem, confident that he would do the same. Well, obviously not a with a blaster, but a blaster would probably be a mercy compared to what the Dashade would do.

Another hiss, and Andronikos heard a giggle followed by a shrill keening whistle sound. What the hell was that? His question was soon answered when he saw a giant white fuzzball stroll into view. Two sets of eyes. Tube-like snout. “You have a Talz?” he questioned, quite taken aback. They were fierce warriors, and they were also loyal to the Republic, yet this one traveled with a Sith Lord. An outcast.

“Of course,” Kira laughed, as if the presence of the hairy giant was the most normal thing in the galaxy. “This is Broonmark. Think of him as my version of Khem Val, without the Force stuff.” The Talz trumpeted in acknowledgment, stepping aside to reveal two small women who had been following behind, a very slim, blue-skinned Twi'lek and then a dour-faced human, her lips curled into a snarl. The apprentice. Oddly enough, Andronikos imagined that the girl reminded him of a young Nox, hood and all, though he'd never seen Nox scowl quite like that. Made him wonder if her face was stuck that way. “I hope they didn't give you too much trouble, Broonmark.”

“I am _never_ too much trouble,” _Blue_ replied, shrugging her shoulders in mock innocence. “I'm Vette. Fearless companion of the ever-angry Sithy Master. Or so she likes to tell people.” She dusted her hands together, eyeing the pirate in a more than appreciative way. “The scary one behind me is Jaesa. I'd recommend staying away from her, if you know what's good for you.” Oh great. Another talker. And giggler. Maybe he could set her down in front of Talos and they'd just keep each other busy. Or perhaps a wall. That might do the trick.

The Wrath huffed in exasperation, narrowing her lavender glare over the odd group. “Alright guys, fan out. You look like an acting troupe. Go do...something,” she sighed, waving her hands off in a shooing motion. “The three of you, stay,” she added, pointing at the apprentices and Khem Val. That was the pirate's queue. He tapped Pierce on the elbow, flicking his head over towards the bar, which was conveniently within ear's distance to where the Sith stood.

“Hey, wait up!” Groaning to himself, Andronikos picked up the pace, pretending not to hear _Blue_ behind them.

Pierce chuckled, slapping the pirate on the back. “Careful, mate. Once she starts, she doesn't shut up.”

Huffing, the pirate rolled his one eye in annoyance and reached for two shot glasses behind the bar. He pulled out his flask, the exact contents momentarily forgotten until he unscrewed the top and took a quick swig. That was right, whiskey this time; he'd decided to switch things up a bit from the normal rum. “That's what I was afraid of. Do you think your Sith would notice if we shoved her out an airlock?” He filled his shot glass and held the flask in the air, quirking his brows in question to the Imperial.

“Ha!” The man nodded, grabbing hold of his glass as the pirate poured. “Believe me, I didn't get it at first either, but m'lord is quite attached. Treats her like a little sister. She has her moments. Knows more than she let's on.”

“Talkin' about me?” The girl materialized between them, slinging an arm over the burly man's shoulder. She picked up the flask that Andronikos had set on the bar, studying the engraved metal. “Mind?” Intrigued, he nodded, curious if the girl could hold her liquor. Maybe the bubbly teen thing was just an act. Tipping her head back, she took two big gulps of the whiskey, not even spluttering in the least. Well that certainly was not expected. _Blue_ was a badass. “So what's going on over there?” she asked, pointing her chin at the group of Sith. “Ooh, Jaesa does not look happy. More so than usual.”

Indeed, the hooded girl looked like she was about ready to throw some punches. Andronikos inclined his head, leaning back in hopes of picking up more of their conversation. He could hear her question her Master's decision in an angry tone. That Ashara wasn't worthy of her service and given the chance, she'd strike her down as a heretic. Oh boy.

“So, Jaesa's going to be the Togruta's apprentice?”

“Her name is Ashara, and yes,” the pirate growled, wishing she would put a sock in it so he could pay better attention to what was going on across the way. He wanted to be ready to hop up at a moment's notice, in case things got out of hand. But of course, there was no need. She would have had to have been completely stupid to step out of line with all of them right there.

“Good. Maybe _she'll_ have luck reining in the crazy train.” She took another swig from the flask. “That girl is completely whacked out of her gourd,” she added, sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth while waving her pointer finger around in a circular motion.

Andronikos yanked the flask out of her hands, throwing her a narrow-eyed glare, quick to pour himself another shot before she finished what was left. “How about less talking, more listening.”

“Hey, I can listen and talk at the same time. I'm talented that way.” She tossed her chin up the in air, playing at looking proud. “So what's your story? You're more ruggedly handsome than even Pierce, here. Sorry, _Masey-wasey_. You know I love you,” she snickered, wrapping her arms around his neck. Judging by the Imperial's reaction, or lack of reaction, having _Blue_ hang off of him like that was apparently a normal occurrence.

“Down, girl. Put that thought out of your pretty blue head right now.” He managed to down his second shot with the girl's arms still around him. “He's with _that_ one.” He casually pointed his thumb back towards Nox.

“Oh, you mean Queen Sith? Yeah, she's kind of scary in an _I'll-just-blow-you-apart-with-my-mind_ sort of way. She's hot though. Good on you...” Pausing, she closed one blue eye while studying him with the other, the opposite cheek puffed out in contemplation. “I just realized that I don't know you're name. I mean, there's _tall_ , and there's _dark_ , and there's _handsome_ ,” she giggled, counting off on her fingers.

Scrunching his eye shut in reaction to the very awful line he'd just been delivered, the pirate released a painful groaning sigh from his throat, now reaching for a bottle of whatever was handy behind the bar because his flask had become infuriatingly empty. Oh thank the stars. Rum. _Blue_ was still watching him, having draped her very long tchin over her shoulder, the tip idly curling back and forth just as a cat twitches its tail. She may as well have been tapping her foot in impatience. Alright, he'd play along. Summoning the creepiest, most sly smile he could muster, he spun in his bar stool to face her directly. “Andronikos Revel, at your service... _m'lady_.” He held out the hand with the bottle to the side, making a flourishing bow for emphasis.

Beyond Vette, Pierce slammed his fist down on the bar, letting out a snorting guffaw, the loud noise gaining the attention of the group of Sith several feet away. For a brief moment, Andronikos was locked in his Sith's emerald gaze before she resumed her conversation with the two apprentices. He didn't see any anger in her eyes, perhaps a glimmer of...longing? He sighed to himself, wondering if he was being an absolute fool for daring to hope that the look was for him. Who knew, maybe it was, in part. Either way, he wasn't about to pretend that all was right between them. Whatever battle it was that went on in her head was a fierce one, that was a fact. But, he did care about her enough to give her time, especially that she'd made the first steps to getting their life together back on track. Before he'd met Nox, no woman had ever been worth working through the hard stuff with. As soon as things went from _just fucking_ to _real relationship_ , he was out. But his Sith wasn't just any woman, and leaving wasn't in the cards for him, he'd already tried. As long as she drew breath and wanted him at her side, he'd be there.

That's not to say he wouldn't still kill the asshole who'd caused her to be so clearly strung out. Part of him hoped the day would come where they'd meet face to face, the other part feared that day, because he didn't think he'd be able to hold back. It was already a well-established fact that he was a selfish son of a bitch. He had no intentions on sharing. Oh sure, he loved watching idiots fawn all over her, he loved watching her play with her food, and he took no issue with a good old-fashioned fucking because it was something they almost always did together, which was a whole other realm of fun, not to mention a completely separate story. But this was obviously more than that, judging by the far-off looks he'd caught out of the corner of his eye. She'd lost a piece of herself along the way, most likely left behind with the mystery man, and that brought all sorts of possessive words to the forefront of his mind. Words like _jealousy_ and _territory_ and _mine_.

“Hey. Hey! Vette–to–Captain Broody-Pants!” _Blue's_ incessant poking finally pulled him out of his reverie to see that he had been squeezing the shot glass so tightly in his hand that the glass threatened to shatter. Brood indeed. Good observation. “Wow, that's quite a gift you got there. You can brood with the best of them. Not quite as good as Quinn, but still up there,” she added, leaning back against the bar between the two men. Andronikos noted that he had no idea what a 'Quinn' was, but he didn't particularly care either. “Wait. She looks familiar.” Following the pirate's gaze, she scrunched up her nose in thought. “It can't be. Pierce, is she the same one that our illustrious leader was with on Korriban?”

“Yup.”

“Ooh, that explains so much,” she mused, quirking her lips into a devilish grin. “So, have either of you gotten in on the _dynamic duo_ yet?” Andronikos almost spit his drink clean out of his mouth. “Oh come on. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. Both of you. All four of you? Ooh, that would be a sight.” At that point he almost fell off the bar stool.

“I told you she doesn't shut up. Whatever's in there...it just comes right out.”

\---------------

The warm feeling in his stomach brought on by several shots of whiskey followed by rum served to improve the pirate's mood greatly. Though he would most definitely need to eat something before being of any use in any sort of physical capacity. At that moment, he didn't care, even if his Sith was going to be pissed at him later.

The three of them continued to people-watch as more ships docked and the transit station filled with Imperial soldiers, communications officers and a team of scientists. Several grunts began to clean up the bodies that still littered the floor, as well as assemble bays of work stations for communications and logistics. “I don't think she likes that one very much,” _Blue_ observed, perched on the bar between them.

“Which one?”

“Well, both. Sith that is. Can you not see how they're looking at that chick?” The Twi'lek was right. Both women looked like they were going to eat the tiny Imperial for breakfast. As soon as the woman had seen the two Sith Lords, she'd started to bow and scrape in front of them. Andronikos knew that his Sith hated groveling, and thought of it as a sign of weakness. She appeared to be the leader of the outside forces, though even he could see that she was in well over her head. “See the difference? They like that one.” A male Pureblood had stepped forward, introducing himself as a lesser Lord. The man stood tall and proud, lacing his fingers behind his back as he addressed them.

“Gotta hand it to you, _Blue_ , you do know how to read people.”

The girl smirked, swinging her legs in front of her as Andronikos lounged back against the bar next to her. “Hey, have you ever wondered if they talk to each other?” She perked up, voice taking on a pitch of curiosity. “The Sith, in their heads I mean. You had to have noticed that they mirror each other a lot.” Both men turned to look up at the younger Twi'lek, neither quite getting where she was going with her observation. “Seriously?” she sighed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “I noticed within five minutes. It comes and goes, but you can easily spot when they're doing it. It started when the other Imperials began showing up.” He made a conscious note to pay more attention to that.

After a few minutes of watching the Sith confer with the arrivals, he caught Nox's eye, and didn't miss the quick flick she made with them, ordering him to her side. “Alright, Lieutenant.” Hopping off the bar stool, he paused briefly to make sure he was steady on his feet. Thankfully, he hadn't taken in _that_ much. “I hope you can hold your liquor,” he added, knocking the other man on the shoulder.

“Later, boys.”

Andronikos and Pierce were introduced to the arrivals – Katha Niar, the weakling woman, and Lord Cytharat, the confident Pureblood. Seemingly anxious to be active again, the Lieutenant strode forward, cradling his blaster rifle in his arms. “Do we have a plan, m'lord?”

The Pureblood spoke up, rather quickly, to answer the Lieutenant's question. “A covert assault on a nearby resort. I will provide tactical data once you arrive.” The gleaming look the Sith Lord threw at _Captain Empire_ did not go unnoticed. He had an admirer.

Her stoic expression devolving into a sidelong smirk, the Wrath took a step closer to her Imperial, a single tattooed brow arched in curiosity. “We have a target, Pierce. A live target. Acquire and interrogate.” Apparently she noticed as well.

“Hell yeah, m'lord.”

“Cytharat,” Nox interrupted, “My apprentice, Ashara, will be in charge of leading the forces here to secure the gravity hook as our base of operations. Do be sure to provide her with any assistance she requires.” She held out her arm, gathering the Togruta into the conversation.

“Yes, Dark Lord.”

“Ashara, Khem Val will be staying here. He will not leave your side.” Her emerald eyes flicked towards the Dashade and then narrowed on the hooded human. “Jaesa, you will defer to Ashara and Khem Val in all matters. Use this time to begin to work together,” she added, holding up an index finger for impact. “You both come from common origins. I trust you will have plenty to discuss. And I expect a positive report from Lord Cytharat upon our return.” She turned away, pulling the Dashade close with an arm on his shoulder. As she stood on her tip-toes, the giant bent down for her to whisper into his ear. “Khem, if she steps out of line, do what you need to do. I will _not_ have an incident here to get back to Marr.”

“Of course, my Master.” He growled, indicating his agreement. The pirate had all confidence that Khem would be able to handle things.

She released Khem, locking her gaze with the pirate, the faintest ghost of a smile passing over her features. “Andronikos. Lieutenant. Thirty minutes. Use the time to get yourselves something to eat.” As he turned away with a nod, Andronikos caught a wink out of the corner of his eye that brought a smug little smile to his face. She was there, and so was he. Life at that particular moment was good.

\--------------

“ _Manju the Hutt’s forces are ahead. These are his elite slavers, responsible for turning the royal family of Vena into chattel for the Nar Shaddaa markets. According to Manju, they also once brought him a Sith Lord in chains. I do not believe it.”_

The Pureblood's clipped Kaasian accent had been directing the team through an open channel as the Sith Lord monitored their progress via satellite. He'd always hated being tied to someone remotely, but it was something he'd begrudgingly endured over the years working with his Sith. Each member of the strike team wore an ear piece in order to stay in communication with each other, and with the base...and it did come in handy from time to time, even if it did remind him of his days in the Republic Navy. Their first objective was to overwhelm the forces guarding the estate belonging to the target, a Cartel mole by the name of Solida Hesk. Once the outside had been neutralized, they would be free to infiltrate the interior and capture her for questioning.

“Slavers, you say?” As the team stalked beneath yet another one of the many decorative pergolas that ostentatiously dotted the sprawling estate, Andronikos quickly looked over at his Sith, noticing the slightly higher pitch to her voice. He could see her clutching at her saber hilt with such force that her knuckles had turned white, flame already ringing at her irises. Slavers ahead. Any time they had encountered that specific brand of foe in the past, her eyes would briefly go somewhere else, and then she'd snap, her rage exploding in full until she'd slaughtered every single one. This time was no different; her eyes took on a deadly gleam, lips curling into a predatory smile. That look brooked no question – this particular group of mercs were hers and hers alone.

The white Twi'lek sheathed her saber and relaxed her position, apparently aware of her friend's propensity for taking on entire units of slavers all on her own. “Go play, we'll be here if you need us,” she mused, nodding towards the men to stand down. With a quirk of her brows in reply, his Sith disappeared from view, having shrouded herself with the Force.

The only thing to do now was to watch and listen for the screams. From their vantage point, they had a view of the entire unit; a hodgepodge mix of Human, Devaronian, Cathar, and Gamorrean. The louts milled about, laughing, drinking and relaxing on the porch at the back of the cliff-side estate, blissfully unaware of the storm that stalked them. There were many tactical openings his Sith could choose to exploit first, and Andronikos felt the thrum of excitement as his heart began to race in anticipation.

The pirate couldn't say that he had any definitive feelings toward the concept of slavery one way or the other; to him it was just of those things that existed pretty much anywhere outside the Republic, and in many cases even the Republic turned a blind-eye. He  _did_  know enough about his Sith's past to know that she'd been raised as a slave on Dromund Kaas, but, she'd never opened up to him about the details of her youth, and he'd never asked. It was enough to just...know - he could figure the rest on his own, and he would never expect her to spell it out for him.

He was a realist in the respect that despite any efforts she might take to change how things worked, it was something that likely wouldn't happen in his lifetime or even hers. An honorable man would have expected him to leap to defend her honor, infuriated on her behalf about something horrible that had happened to her before they'd even met. However, the blunt and honest truth was that the woman he'd follow through hell and back was strong enough to have overcome her past on her own. She was already a Sith Lord of her own making when she'd first walked into that cantina on Tatooine, a powerful, confident, deadly predator...just like him. She didn't need his pity, and getting upset about it wouldn't change the facts. If someone stepped out of line around her now though? They were fucking dead.

Then again, judging by the scene laid out before him, she clearly didn't need anybody's protection. Andronikos had to practically pick his jaw up from the ground when he saw her pop into view at a run, leaping into the air to launch herself off of a Devaronian's chest plate with the kick of a booted foot, pushing the man clean off the edge of the porch. The sound of the merc's surprised scream followed as the kick propelled her through the air onto the shoulders of the Cathar he'd been previously laughing with. Before the furry man had a chance to react, she settled her knees on either side of his head and snapped his neck with a sharp twist of her hips, regaining her feet as he fell lifeless to the floor tiles. And this was all before she'd even ignited her saberstaff.

“Where the fuck did she learn that?” The three of them stood watching her, the pirate completely dumb-struck while the Twi'lek looked on, her one eye narrowed into a smug grin. Within the blink of an eye, his Sith was gone again, looking for another opening as the mercs ran over to find one of their own rather inexplicably dead.

“Um, yeah. So on Yavin Four? Nox and I spent a lot of time practicing together in the jungle. More like she spent time figuring out how to get to me without resorting to just blasting me with her lighting. It was kind of a game. She learned. Fast.” The Wrath had a look of pure innocence on her face.

She materialized again behind the group of mercs, holding her saber hilt behind her back. “Hello there,” she cooed, the playful words reaching the strike team through the audio channel she'd left open. The mercs turned, some taking aim at the intruder, while others appeared completely distracted by the sight of the curvy leather-wrapped creature in front of them. With a battle-drunk giggle, she ignited her saberstaff behind her back and disappeared again, leaving the men standing there staring at nothing, utterly unbalanced. She was toying with them.

The pirate wasn't buying it. Her moves were too fluid, too graceful, too precise. He'd never seen a Sith capable of being just as deadly without the use of a lightsaber or Force theatrics. “Nice try. She didn't learn that from you, Sith.” With great effort, he was able to tear his eyes away from the view below him to frown at the Wrath.

“Well, aside from working with me,” she began, with no lack of hesitation he noticed, “she also started training in hand-to-hand with that, um, spy _friend_ of hers. Had Pierce here face-down in the dirt a couple times,” she chuckled, nudging the tall man at her side with her shoulder.

And there it was. A flicker of those possessive feelings flared up in his gut, that someone was able to do something with her that he couldn't, but Andronikos had to grudgingly admit that it was a smart move on her part. Darth Nox had always been a sneaky sort of Sith, mastering the arts of stealth and assassination techniques, but Sith training could only take her so far. It made perfect sense that she'd be able to easily augment her skills with the added moves an operative could give her, if she found someone willing to risk serious injury to do it. The man had to have been good. Very good. And he imagined that the exchange wasn't only for _her_ benefit. Fists clenching at his side, his mind started to take him to places he didn't want to go, picturing how the heat of close combat almost always heightened a Sith's passions to an explosive level. He'd had enough first-hand experience with that himself to know exactly where each and every one of those training sessions ended up. Again, a blaster to the asshole's head would solve everything.

Thankfully, his thought track was interrupted by the Lieutenant's bark of a laugh, given against a backdrop of gurgled screams from below as his Sith spun her saberstaff through another group of mercs. “Bloody bastard laughed his ass off.”

“We _all_ laughed our asses off, my dear Mason, because it was quite the sight seeing someone a third of your size perched on your back holding your face into the ground,” she dug affectionately. “But yeah, she's a natural oddly enough. As you can see. Like a little monkey lizard.” She shook her head in laughter, the lekku bound together down her back swinging from side to side. “She probably could have made quite the operative herself, if it wasn't for the Force-sensitivity that brought her to Korriban.”

“Cytharat.” His Sith had reappeared, casually stalking to their position, her eyes already returned to their deep emerald green. “We're just about finished up outside. We'll be ready to move on the target shortly.” Sheathing her saberstaff, she clipped it to her belt and stood before the team like she hadn't just gone off on a blood-lust-filled rampage. Andronikos quickly looked her over for any sign of injury, but nary a hair was out of place, her cool composure recovered in full. The slavers hadn't even landed a single hit.

“ _Excellent, my Lord.”_

“How is everything on your end?” Leaning back on one hip, she locked eyes with the Wrath as she questioned the Pureblood about the status of their base of operations, particularly with the conditions regarding the apprentices.

“ _Nobody has died yet, if that is indeed what you're asking. Your Dashade appears to have recruited the Talz for further security.”_

The white Twi'lek stifled a snicker at that. It would have been a rather interesting sight to behold, for sure. Two giants, one all angry red muscle, the other completely wild. And neither spoke Basic. In fact, Andronikos wouldn't have been surprised if the majority of forces back at the gravity hook didn't understand them at all, short of their very intimidating physical presence.

“And my apprentice?”

“ _She has already proven herself as the superior with a lightsaber, my Lord. The human girl has resigned herself to service, for now.”_

“Thank you, Cytharat. Keep me posted if anything changes.” Nox glanced at the pirate, a slight smile passing over her features in acknowledgment of the progress Ashara appeared to have made back at the base. The girl may have been her apprentice, but they both felt responsible for her.

“ _Yes, Dark Lord.”_

“Shall we?” Lips quirking into a devious grin, she pulled her saber hilt and ignited the blade, spinning it in the air as she began moving back into the greater part of the compound.

The team's path through the remainder of the estate went much in the same way as it had before their little intermission, a lot of dead mercenaries and slavers. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. They all got their equal fill of the mayhem, leaving a combined wake of bodies as they passed. Some were left floating in the various intricately carved fountains, some were strewn across artistically shaped topiaries, others were left to hang over the numerous pergolas where a Sith had thrown them. All of that beautiful white marble slathered red with blood – such a contrast to the lavish green, white, and gold that made up the overall palette for the estate. For the pirate, it was an improvement. He liked the comforts of luxury as much as the next guy, but this level of decadence was disgusting. And littered amongst all of the still forms were smoking piles of electronics and metal, droids of all shapes and sizes hacked to bits. None escaped.

Andronikos couldn't say who had the highest tally, but he could tell the difference of who killed what. His Sith's kills were typically clean – a snapped neck, a saber swing through the gut, or death by electrical shock. Either way, they stayed in one piece. The Wrath, however, preferred to hack her adversaries into pieces. All of her rage was channeled into each heavy swing of her single blade. The men were tougher to discern, because they both used blasters, the Lieutenant's rifle compared to the pirate's pair of pistols. He liked to think that his shots were more accurate and tightly clustered.

Before moving into the interior, the team paused to do a quick once-over for any damage. Andronikos pulled his Sith aside, inspecting her personally before even worrying about himself, something he always insisted on doing, despite her protests. As he got down on one knee to make sure the scratch she'd received down the side of her torso during the crash hadn't torn further, his shoulder seized, causing the breath to catch in his throat from the sharp pain.

“You're hurt.” She knelt down beside him, her battle lust melting into an expression of concern.

“Just got winged in the shoulder is all. Didn't feel it til now,” he responded, suppressing a groan.

“Nonsense.” He knew he was underselling the amount of pain he was in, and he knew that she would have to heal it. The mission wasn't done and he had the luxury of being able to rely on her ability to knit wounds, in a sense. The pain of being healed with the Dark Side of the Force was a rather particular sensation in itself. She'd healed him so many times he'd lost count, and he still hadn't grown used to it. It was a deeply visceral experience, and it could be excruciating depending on the severity of the wound. But sometimes, just sometimes, there was another layer of sensation underneath the pain. Something that was difficult to describe, but it was enough for him to almost look forward to it.

Bringing her face to within inches of his, she ran a hand over his shoulder, her emerald eyes searching his features for any sign of reluctance, but she found what she would always find - complete trust, perhaps laced with a little excitement. Without warning, she closed the distance between them, crushing her lips to his in a rough kiss. Andronikos was successfully distracted, and brought his opposite hand up to grip the back of her neck, deepening the kiss with his tongue. When she captured his lower lip between her teeth and bit down sharply, he felt the unique pain suddenly radiate from his shoulder all the way down his spine to his core, lessened by her diversion. She finished the kiss with a lave of her tongue over his now sore lower lip, but his shoulder felt exponentially better. A little stiff, but solid.

He got to his feet, pulling her with him, sure that his expression mirrored her own. If only there had been time and just a little bit of privacy. “Just like new,” he observed, rotating his shoulder in hopes of working out some of the stiffness.

“Where do I sign up for that?” Both the Lieutenant and the Wrath had been standing there watching them, their mouths practically agape.

“You'll have to get shot to find out, Lieutenant,” she quipped, dusting the ground from her leggings.

“I'll have to be less careful next time.”

“Yeah, well just let me know and I'd be happy to provide you with what you need.” Not just a little annoyed at _Captain Empire's_ overt attempt at flirtation, Andronikos threw the Imperial a tight-lipped glare and pulled his blasters from their leather holsters under his arms, starting to make his way inside the central estate. “No promises on where it lands though,” he added over his shoulder.

When the team moved into the interior, they encountered even more over-the-top decadence. Judging by the name, Solida Hesk was no Hutt, but she sure decorated like one. Or perhaps is was all a show for her slug overlords. The rooms and halls were covered in gold busts, various gaudy paintings of the planet, brushed in every color under the sun, and an uncounted number of live trophies trapped in gold-painted carbonite, their mouths frozen open in horror. Everywhere the air was permeated with the sticky, overbearingly sweet smell of flowers. And not the good kind of flowers. It made the pirate's head swim with nausea.

As expected, the security seemed lighter inside. Typical for the Hutts to assume that nobody would be able to get past their forces outside. The surprised and frightened party goers and brown nosers weren't worth their time; they were passed by, completely ignored for larger prey, quite literally and figuratively. At the back of the estate, they found who and what they were looking for.

It turned out that Solida Hesk was a Zabrak of the Republic persuasion, and a real nasty piece of work. They'd found the woman entertaining three large Hutts in private, so confident of their own position that they hadn't the slightest inkling they were all most likely going to die. As they passed into the private room, Nox flicked her hand behind her back in an open-palmed gesture, ordering him to guard the door. Both men took up positions on either side, watching their Sith move further into the room to confront their target.

“So the Empire is on Makeb now? Trying to kill the Hutts while they're in one place, or do you trot after the Republic fleet wherever it goes?” Andronikos had to hand it to the woman. Either she had a set of brass ones, or she was a complete idiot to talk to two Sith like that.

Nox put on a disturbingly sweet smile, moving forward to stalk back and forth in front of the pale-colored Zabrak. “Perhaps you don't know who we are.” She brought a hand up, casually examining her fingernails as if she hadn't a care in the world. “I came here for answers,” she continued in a chiding tone, narrowing her eyes on the woman. “Isotope-5 – tell me what you know.” His Sith let the woman have it, the full brunt of her Force lightning crumpling the woman to her knees.

“Damn, you!” she cried. “Yes, we discovered the isotope during deep-drilling operations, and yes, my Hutt investors kept it a secret. But believe me, the Hutts are no friends of mine. Because their greed overwhelmed their sense, we're going to lose the whole blasted planet.” Groaning in pain, she managed to crawl onto her hands and knees, her clothing still smoking from the lighting.

The Zabrak jerked her head up in fear when she heard the white Twi'lek chuckle, a sound half-way between a husky giggle and a sob. The pirate had heard her use that on the battlefield more than once, and it successfully served it's purpose of unhinging whoever it was meant for. “You sold out your whole world to a cartel of criminals. How did you expect it to end?”

“You're not understanding,” she spat, getting to her feet. “I'm not being melodramatic – we're _literally_ losing the planet! Makeb only has a few weeks left before the planetary core rips apart. That's what happens when you extract Isotope-5.” Well, now they knew where those ground quakes were coming from. “No more Makeb, no more isotope...and no more fancy resort or corporation. So yes, I'll need Hutt allies once my planet is gone.”

The pair of Sith shared a look, making Andronikos wonder if _Blue_ had been right in her guess that they somehow communicated with each other through the Force. Not with actual words, he knew that much. But generalized nudges of feelings and intuition? Sure, why not. Or maybe they were just that much in tune with each other without even needing the Force. They did practically finish each other's sentences from time to time, which was weird...and kind of annoying. “You doomed all of Makeb, and now you're worried about where to go next.” Nox curled her hand at her side, generating a slight ball of energy in her palm.

Eyeing his Sith warily, the Zabrak pulled out a datapad. “Go ahead, watch my hands, I'm not triggering any alarm...” She started tapping and sliding the screen, her fingers dancing over the surface as quickly as she could make them. “There. I've granted access to my corporate systems.”

Andronikos heard confirmation from their base over the comm channel. They had what they needed. The two Sith began pacing back and forth with predatory grace, eyeing the woman standing before them, paying little attention to the three large Hutts cowering in fear behind her. “What ever shall we do, Nox?” The Wrath made that chuckling sound again, the tips of her bound lekku flicking towards her back. Oh, that woman was fucked.

“I have information, money and influence, and-” Her pathetic attempt at grovelling was abruptly cut short as Nox brought her hand up, squeezing at the air between her fingers just as she squeezed at the woman's windpipe through the Force. With a swift twist of the wrist, the woman's neck snapped cleanly, leaving her to crumple to the floor.

“Your assistance will not be necessary.”

The Wrath ignited her lightsaber, the red of the blade reflecting in the fire in her eye. Giggling at the Hutts, she leapt into the air, landing on the back of the closest. Her lips curled into a wicked grin as she drove the blade down into his head and then somersaulted down onto the next, executing that one just as cleanly. By the time she got to the third, she appeared to have grown a bit bored and simply jumped down in front of him, slicing the blade across his neck before turning away and walking back towards Nox.

“Cytharat.” The two Sith had started to make their way back towards the door.

“ _My Lord, this is Katha Niar.”_ Andronikos had to stifle his laughter at the wonderful eye roll Nox performed at hearing the woman's voice. That one would do well to keep her head down, or she could very well end up like the dead Zabrak only a few feet away.

“Speak.”

“ _We've already found the Isotope-5's location in Hesk's files. Getting to it is going to be a problem and we only have a few weeks before the planet is going to come apart around us.”_

“I want to move as soon as possible,” Nox sighed, clearly annoyed at the woman's statement of the obvious.

“ _Dark Lord, the Hutts are keeping the isotope at Stronghold One – it's a massive vault built by the government for Makeb's treasury. One entrance. Unbreachable walls. Six layers of security. We're going to need time to plan.”_ Her agitation diminished somewhat at the Pureblood's assessment. He knew how to speak to a Sith. Stick to the facts. Don't dawdle.

The Wrath blew a forceful breath out of her lungs, her single lavender eye pinned to the ceiling in contemplation as she paced. “Wonderful. Wait...” She stopped, her gaze going distant as she shared a look with Nox. There it was, again. “Would we be able to use the locals to our advantage? Our original intel told us that they were revolting against the Hutts.”

“ _A sound plan, my Lord. It wouldn't take much to start a revolt. Worldwide rebellion, and the Hutts won't have the manpower to keep us from the isotope.”_

“Then it's settled. We have one week to make it happen.”

So yeah, that planet was on the verge of blowing apart and they only had to prod the locals into open warfare with the Hutts so they could sneak into their base and steal shit before they went down with the ship. No pressure.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the length of this one...I do that a lot, don't I? I didn't think that last part was enough to stand on its own, and it won't really fit in with the next chapter, so I stuck it here. I wanted to get it posted, so I proof-read it rather quickly...I'll re-check it after I get some sleepies. :)
> 
> There's quite a bit going on here, but one of the things I definitely wanted to show was give a bit more depth to Andronikos and what makes his devious little pirate brain tick. Still trying to show those similarities and glaring differences between him and a certain spy...ya know, because of that corner I painted myself into and all. ;)
> 
> I'm also glad to finally be able to show you guys that yup, Nox be Sithy. :P


	17. Fetish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a card game  
> Shenanigans are had  
> Group fun for all  
> Words are said  
> Others are not said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for completely consensual rough sex and group theatrics. If smut isn't your thing, skip to the end section for important plot developments. 
> 
> "Fetish"  
> Selena Gomez (feat. Gucci Mane)
> 
> Take it or leave it  
> Baby take it or leave it  
> But I know you won't leave it  
> 'Cause I know that you need it, ah  
> Look in the mirror  
> When I look in the mirror  
> Baby I see it clearer  
> Why you wanna be nearer, ah
> 
> I'm not surprised  
> I sympathize, ah  
> I can't deny  
> Your appetite, ah
> 
> You got a fetish for my love  
> I push you out and you come right back  
> Don't see a point in blaming you  
> If I were you, I'd do me too
> 
> You got a fetish for my love  
> I push you out and you come right back  
> Don't see a point in blaming you  
> If I were you, I'd do me too  
> You got a fetish for my love
> 
> Reaching your limit  
> Say you're reaching your limit  
> Going over your limit  
> But I know you can't quit it, ah  
> Something about me  
> Got you hooked on my body  
> Take you over and under and twisted up like origami, ah

Makeb – Gravity Hook Seven – Nox

Nox had given the Makeb team one week to prepare for the assault on Stronghold One. They needed that isotope, and their time was running short. Truth be told, it had taken a fair bit of convincing on her part to prod the complacent wealthy lordlings into open rebellion with the Hutts and their mercenary forces.

The local leader wouldn't even talk to her unless she agreed to spend some _quality time_ with him. Typical. Leave it to a grubby politician to hang the future well-being of his people on the hope of nailing a Sith Lord. It was demeaning for her, and not in a good way...and she should have gutted him right there. 

She'd half-expected Andronikos to pull his blaster on the man, he'd killed in her name for less offense, but he didn't. He'd played the perfect bodyguard, his face a hardened mask of just-give-me-one-reason when she agreed to the slimy leader's terms. He stood his ground when she allowed the man to touch her right in front of him, as if he was nothing more than a worthless piece of furniture taking up space. And he had even kept post outside of the office when she requested additional privacy, pretending to be coy, shy, nervous...any way to get him out of the room because she stubbornly refused to subject him to _that_. 

It wasn't fodder for fantasy or role play or anything they did together as a couple. It was a job, and she did what she had to in order to get that job done, and Nik understood that.

Yet even after being forced to use her body as a bargaining chip, Nox wasn't without sympathy for the local cause. She could have left them to their own devices, and they surely would have been slaughtered. Instead, she gave them at least a fighting chance. Mason Pierce was a wealth of knowledge when it came to planning high-stakes operations, and Kira fell into the role of drill sergeant perhaps a little too comfortably.

They had spent the better part of the past five days working with the Makebians, drilling them on tactics and planning, laying out choke points and weaknesses to exploit in order to divert the attention of the Hutts. Of course, the locals had no idea about their newfound  _friends'_  ulterior motives or why the Empire was suddenly so interested in helping them.

But now the Makeb team had a full-scale revolt on their hands, and they were free to execute their planned assault on Stronghold One in the morning. While the locals were busy acting out their little uprising, serving as a sufficient decoy, an Imperial strike team would be able to slip into the base and acquire the precious resource that the Sith Empire so desperately needed in order to stay viable as a power in the war.

Even more surprising, while they were all busy with the locals, Cytharat had reported almost-shocking progress with the apprentices. The Sith Lord's viewpoints on politics and the war were surprisingly similar to her own, and Nox found him an invaluable resource to depend on when it came to overseeing the work Ashara had been doing at the team base and with Jaesa. Technically Ashara was in charge, but the Pureblood reported directly to her. More than that, she valued him as an ally and planned to speak to Marr on his behalf. They needed Sith like him. He would go far if she had anything to say about it.

The team more than deserved a night spent in relaxation.

Ashara and Jaesa had taken over a corner of the lounge, and were sitting cross-legged facing each other in meditation. Nox had to admit that she did not expect Kira's former apprentice to come around so quickly. Perhaps it was the change in surroundings, or perhaps it truly was that the girls were able to find common ground to work on, having both been trained as padawans. Or, maybe it was because Ashara had put the angry little human in her place on that very first day. Or a combination. Either way, it was a pleasant surprise. She had a long way to go, but Ashara was off to a remarkably good start. Nox was indeed very proud of her apprentice.

Khem and Broonmark were nowhere to be found, and frankly she had no idea what they could be up to. Off playing a little game of Scare-the-Uptight-Imperial most likely. The odd couple had become fast friends, brothers in crime. It was adorable. 

The rest of the group was seated around a table in the lounge, absorbed in a game of sabacc. Well, they were trying, at least. Talos had already tapped out and was curled up in a cushioned chair off to the side, reading a datapad. Kira was also out, pure boredom written across her face as she drummed her fingers idly against the table waiting for the game to come to an end.

The proceedings had largely boiled down to a grudge match between Vette and Andronikos. The little blue Twi'lek narrowed her eyes across the table, clearly determined to beat her adversary. Unfortunately for her, though, and everybody else at that moment, the pirate was always serious when it came to sabacc. It was his thing. He was a hustler, and he prided himself on being able to take down anybody, anytime, anywhere...fast...and look good while doing it. Nox had spent many a date night hanging off his arm, playing the role of Eye Candy, his hidden wingman (woman). It was the perfect ruse, one they'd practiced together to perfection.

His face betrayed nothing and Vette wouldn't be able to goad anything out of him either. Nik had told her that _Blue_ , as he had taken to calling her, had her moments where he actually thought she was tolerable. She'd won him over in the end, just as Ashara had. Still, that didn't mean he'd let her beat him at his game.

Either way, her mind was most definitely not on the cards. She'd never been very good anyways. Having lost her chips some time ago, she was free to watch the rest of the proceedings, using it as an excuse to lean in close to the pirate at her right. It was cliche, but effective.

“The sooner you lose that hand, _tiger_ , the better...”

“This tiger takes his cards very seriously, _my lord."_  He might have been laughing on the inside, and he probably was, but when Nik put his sabacc face on, there was no telling. She could have stripped down naked in front of him and started running around the table for all to see and he'd still be able to keep that damned expressionless mask up. Perhaps she really should try that sometime, if only to test her theory. He'd lay into her for it, certainly, but that would be much later, and in private. And it would be so very worth it. 

“A pity..." she paused, giving it her best mocky-frown. “...I believe there was something else you'd been looking for...something... _specific_ since our old friend joined us again.” She smiled into his ear, remembering the look on his face years ago on Alderaan when she and Kira had worked _closely_ with the young and sadly expired Sith, Urtel. Of course, that was right after they'd first met, when they were both doing anything and everything possible to drive each other to jealousy in a rather intricate dance of flirtation, a dance that did not last long at all. It had ended the very next day, in fact.

She was drawn to the pirate's gruff, disrespectful and rebellious nature like a fly to honey. It was a more than welcome change from the exhaustive boot-licking all Imperials seemed to excel at. There hadn't been an Imperial yet who could please her the way that pirate could. In fact, there had only been one other who had even come close at all, and he had most definitely not been an Imperial.

It had been difficult for Nik over the past year, she knew that. As a Sith, Kira would have told her that it was well within her right to seek pleasure wherever she saw fit, with whomever she saw fit. She'd already heard that...many times over. And from a Sith's perspective, her friend was right. But still, that didn't stop her from hating herself more and more every day because of it. It was different - there were feelings involved this time. She'd hurt Nik, and no matter how much he tried to hide it, it was still there. The only hope was that in time, she could make up for it. 

Kira had, of course, told her about that first night on the _Phoenix_. As a couple, she and the pirate shared their bed casually with others quite frequently, but never another Force user, and she knew he was curious. It was mostly about trust issues centered around Sith Bullshit, that and they'd never crossed paths with a Jedi worth the effort...but she trusted the Twi'lek who had helped her survive Korriban. Frankly, she was surprised he hadn't jumped at the chance when it first presented itself...but she supposed it did make sense given the obvious tension between them at the time.

It would be yet another distraction from the greater issue at hand, but still, she wanted to give him whatever he wished for. And if he wished to visit a place called 'Pound Town', as he so eloquently put it in his Pirate Speak, with two of the most powerful women in the galaxy, then so be it. He would have it. And live to tell the tale.

As the reality of what she was suggesting sunk in, the pirate's brows quirked ever so slightly. It was barely noticeable, and he still managed to maintain that unwavering game face. She studied him, waiting for more of a reaction, finding herself getting lost as she so often did when she watched him play sabacc. She took everything in...from the warm, golden brown skin slashed with numerous scars, to the immaculately manicured strip of hair at his chin...the perfectly shaped lips...to the blood-red tattoo curving around the outside of his left eye, an eye she knew was an unseeing shade of white, hidden beneath a simple patch. He was beautiful. Rugged and weathered, yet still groomed to perfection. The scars, the damaged eye...none of that mattered. It all only served to enhance everything that made him who he was. 

She could only guess at what he was thinking...until he slid his left hand nonchalantly into her lap. Even then, he refused to pull his gaze from his cards. But, he still gave her an answer. He ran his thumb up the inside seam of her leather-covered thigh, right up to the top. His palm flattened against her, squeezing in such a way that she couldn't help but squirm in her seat. It was exactly what he wanted, and the almost imperceptible twitch of his lips betrayed his smug level of satisfaction.

He was such an asshole...and she loved every second of it.

Now quite hot and bothered, and trying rather determinedly to hide it, she resigned herself to waiting, thankful that he desisted with his teasing and just left his hand resting on her leg. She leaned forward in her seat, one elbow propped up on the table supporting her chin, watching the remaining players. Pierce would likely be taken out with this next hand, and Cytharat only had a few chips left. She glanced over at Kira, recalling the conversation she'd had with the other woman in private, just before they'd all gathered around the sabacc table.

> “ _Are you sure this is something you want, Lu? Now? You know I'm always game, but...you've been running yourself a bit thin. Anybody can see that." The Twi'lek paced back and forth in front of her, her tattooed brows quirked in nervous question._
> 
> _“Yes...more than anything my mind needs to be somewhere else." Was it really that obvious? She'd been distracted, worrying herself over Theron...Nik...Theron...Nik...it was a never-ending cycle, from one to the next, and often at the same time. She hadn't been sleeping much. She hadn't been eating much. And she knew that Nik was worried...and that only made things worse._
> 
> “ _I warned you. You chose not to listen."_
> 
> _"Do I ever?" she laughed, trying to divert the turn of the conversation. “It's not like this isn't anything we haven't done before.”_
> 
> _The Twi'lek huffed, her doubt transforming from concern into a wicked little grin. She knew better than anyone about living life from one distraction to the next. It was easier that way. “Just like old times, right?”_
> 
> “ _And what about Pierce?”_
> 
> “ _What about Pierce?” Kira half-snurfled. “Don't worry yourself on his part, luv. You know better than that. There are any number of pretty little Imperial twits running around this base making googly eyes at him. We have only one rule between us - never in a bed we share. Unless of course, you're in it. Poor man wouldn't know what to do with himself.”_
> 
> _"Exactly what have you told him about us, Kira?”_
> 
> “ _Oh, just enough...”_

“I call.” Throwing down the last of his chips, Pierce leaned back in his chair, fingers idly spinning the glass of ale in front of him as he waited for the sabacc computer to reveal all of the hands. Another round for Andronikos. “Kriffing shite, I'm out,” he spat. He staggered to his feet, downing the last of his drink.

Kira perked up at the Lieutenant's movement, seemingly stirred out of her boredom. She watched him stumble off, and then glanced over at Cytharat, her lips curling into a devious little smirk as she followed the Pureblood's gaze...right back to Pierce as he made his way to the bar. Googly eyes indeed. She got to her feet, giving Nox a squeeze on the shoulder before following after, leaving a stream of almost disturbing giggles in her wake. 

“Alright, _Blue_ , I'm calling it a draw or we're gonna be at this all night...” Nox felt Andronikos run his hand over her thigh, reclining back in his chair with a feigned yawn. He was clearly ready for the game to be over. Clearly ready to move on to another sort of game. 

“Aww, what about poor Cytharat, here?” 

The Pureblood laughed softly, holding up the last of his chips. “To be honest, my heart isn't in the game tonight. Otherwise I'm sure you both would be losing quite sorely." He was full of it, and everybody left at the table knew it. “I'll gladly divide my chips between the two of you. The hour is growing quite late and we have a big day tomorrow," he added, rising to his feet with a certain grace that even she seemed to lack. “My lord, I look forward to fighting at your side. Until tomorrow.” Nodding, he tilted his chin in her direction, and then turned away.

“I see someone is stopping for a nightcap first...” Indeed, Vette was correct. Rather than heading off towards the quarters set aside for the three Sith Lords, Cytharat had made a bee line right for the bar. The little Twi'lek shook her head, laughing a little too loudly as she hoarded together her pile of credit chips. “You're going down next time, Nikki.”

“Hehe, I'm sure you'll try, girlie.” Andronikos stood up, tucking his winnings into one of the cargo pockets on his leg. He made a rather insulting attempt at a bow, quite on purpose, and held out a hand to Nox, patiently waiting for her to take it. "M'lady..." 

“I do hope you plan on buying me something nice with your vast fortune of winnings, _my darling_ ,” she teased, pulling herself to her feet. She let her accent roll the last word off of her tongue, knowing just how much he loved to hate any sort of pet name she gave him. 

He already had that look in his eye, the one that told her she was in for it, and he yanked her toward him, tugging her in the direction of the station's largest suite. She didn't care that there were still others around to see the display. Downtime was Nik's time, and regardless, she knew he would never put her in a position that would undermine her authority where it mattered. If an alarm were to suddenly sound, or a call were to come in, their life would be put on hold. That was just the way of it all.

Somewhere in the span of time it took for them to reach the door to their quarters, Kira materialized behind them, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. Nox knew how things worked, or were at least supposed to work, between her and Andronikos. She had no idea, however, how they worked between her friend and the burly Lieutenant. It appeared that she'd left him at the bar to fend for himself, which was...kind of cold, even for her. But, the Twi'lek had always been the one to cite Sith Privilege, and if that worked for them, then so be it. He was an attractive man, in his own right...if he wanted a warm body to roll around with in her absence, he'd have no trouble finding one. 

Andronikos stood by the door, playing at the perfect gentleman, even though he was most certainly not, waiting for both of them to pass. Kira wasted no time. She had a determined set to her jaw, and as she walked by, she brushed a hand over the front of his pants, humming a rather high pitched sound of approval at his betrayed interest. He reached back with his fist to engage the lock on the door, standing there with a ridiculously self-entitled expression on his face, watching the Twi'lek continue into the room and right on towards Nox.

At that point, they probably should have spent some time talking over ground rules, something she and Nik normally did with any mere mortal they chose to play with. But, the sky was the limit here. He  _was_ the mere mortal in this case. 

The room was small. Barely large enough for a bed and single arm chair, let alone the added space needed for the three of them to stand comfortably without stepping on each other's toes. One...two steps and the Twi'lek had reached her destination. She raised a hand, caressing a palm to her friend's unscarred cheek, tracing her fingertips down the side of her neck, over a defined collarbone, and down to the zipper that held back her cleavage. Closing the distance between them, Kira leaned forward, tentatively brushing their lips together. Nox didn't pull back, and she deepened the kiss, reaching with her tongue as she slowly lowered the zipper, sliding a white hand between soft skin and leather.

Lower and lower the zipper went, and Nox sighed through her nose, leaning into the woman's touch. She began working at the buckles and laces of the other woman's heavier body armor, her breath catching as she saw Andronikos join her, circling behind the Twi'lek. His hands went up, stroking at either lek, first one then the other, carrying away the black leather straps that bound them together down between her shoulder blades. 

Tilting her head back as his fingers worked over the striped skin, Kira began mumbling incoherent nothings to the ceiling, completely lost in her own little world. More than once, Nox had seen her friend utterly loose herself from that alone. A gentle graze of teeth was all it would take. _Gentle_. She knew that the Twi'leki appendages were very sensitive, probably more sensitive than her own breasts, and she couldn't imagine having something like that so...exposed. Everything would be a turn-on (more than it was already).

She was indeed going to take advantage here, though. She laved a kiss to the bared white throat, nibbling at the skin, working northwards...behind an ear...right to the base of her tchin. Nox felt her stomach twist into an amazing sort of flip-flop when she glanced up through her lashes, catching Nik watching her every move. His lips were so close, so tempting, and she found herself jumping from one to the other, capturing his mouth with her own as she laced their fingers together over Kira's shoulders. She sighed into his mouth, sliding her tongue against his, and together they pushed the armor off and away to thunk to the floor at their feet.

Nox turned away, feeling two sets of eyes boring into her back as she swagger-swayed across the small span of the room. She reached up to her own shoulders, letting the leather vest slide down her arms, the sensation of the cool air on her exposed skin sending shivers down her spine. It was then that she felt the other woman reach through the Force, brushing gently at her mind. It was an invitation, not an attempt to push her way in, and it was a sign of ultimate trust for a Sith, especially when certain emotions could be used as weapons, just as sharply as any blade.

It wasn't a bond, they wouldn't be able to have a chat with their minds...but when opened up completely, they would be able to read each other's emotions as easily as reading a holonovel, and if those emotions were strong enough, perhaps even some level of sensation. Kind of. It was very difficult to describe. It had always been an unsettling experience for Nox, and she typically avoided it in general, but it did serve to boost intimacy levels by a thousand-fold, even if only one-sided. It was what she'd felt with Theron, who was a mere mortal, as he grudgingly referred to himself. He would never have been able to read her, but his mind was strong, strong enough to tell when she'd touched him that way, and that was how he had shared in the experience.

Kira had let down her walls, leaving herself wide open and exposed. Anger. Fear. Passion. Envy. Lust. She could sense them all, rolling off the Twi'lek in waves. And buried beneath everything, shoved down to the bottom as if locked away from the warm light of day, was love. Not for her, not in that way, at least she didn't think so. She knew that the feelings Kira had for her ran deeper than friendship, but that was a conversation that had been had many years ago, and the other woman had accepted that she just couldn't summon those sorts of emotions for her. Nox cared for her friend, just not in  _that_ way. This was different. It was something she was running away from. Something she was afraid to face. Could it be Pierce? The wayward husband? Both? 

This was why she usually shied away from such contact. It was too personal. Too dangerous. Emotions could surface that had previously been hidden and unknown...

Such as a Republic spy falling in love with a Sith. Or even worse...that very same Sith falling in love with that very same Republic spy...

But, she trusted Kira, and the Twi'lek already knew about that quagmire. Akin to reaching out to take another's hand, she accepted, letting her friend in. Everything was out on the table. The pain. The exhaustion. The fear. It shouldn't have been anything new. It was exactly why they were all in that room together. She was looking for any way to help push her mind elsewhere. She wanted to be taken over by the fun emotions, like lust and passion. Those were the good ones. At the moment, love was...anything but. 

They were still watching her. That hadn't changed, and their gaze felt heavy and weighted. Nox ran her hands down over the curve of her hips, her fingers making quick work of her belt and everything else that held her tight leggings in place. Arching her back in a rather overt manner, she slid the mass of light, leather-based gear to her knees, sheer cloth split skirts followed by heavier leggings, grinning like an idiot at the wall because she knew exactly what those eyes were doing.

Her eyes fell to the armchair that happened to be conveniently situated at just the perfect angle, and all sorts of dirty thoughts came to mind. She turned, settling herself down onto the moderately comfortable seat cushion and began the arduous process of unlacing her boots, going about her business without a care in the galaxy...as if there wasn't a very attractive man and woman standing only a few feet away, both looking at her like she was a three-course meal.

She took her time with the laces, glancing up from beneath the fan of her lashes, and watched as Nik pawed over line after line of the inky black tattoos that striped across the Twi'lek's toned abdomen, finally settling at her waistline. The muscles of his shoulders gave a quick jerk, ripping at a belt buckle that had offended him in the worst of ways. There as a metallic snap, and the ruined piece of leather was pulled way, forgotten and cast aside to the floor.

Nox had to smile in appreciation of the living canvas before her. Her friend was absolutely covered in Sith tattoos, from each lek, all the way down her arms and torso, and she remembered from previous experience, right to her toes. All at once, the line work was delicate yet deliberate, beautiful yet imposing, resembling the organic striping of a krak'yja cat. Such a stark difference to the amalgamation of inked images she'd seen on Theron's arm and shoulder, but no less artful, or beautiful.

First one boot, then the other, and she was finally able to recline back, thoroughly enjoying the view as she artfully threw a leg over an arm of the chair, completely exposed. It wasn't a mystery to figure out that both of them were more than interested in what she offered. She watched Kira bite at her lower lip, watched a white hand slip past the waistline of her pants as Nik knelt down to deal with the laces of her boots, clearly annoyed at the concept of having to take the time to get rid of them.

If it were just the two of them, on any other day of their life together, Nox knew that he'd have already thrown her down on the bed, pants and all. He didn't need to get them all the way off, at least not right away. But he was taking his time with Kira, and she could tell it was driving him crazy.

One at a time, he stripped the boots from the Twi'lek's feet, an uncharacteristically pathetic whine managing to wiggle from his throat as he watched Nox trace an index finger between her breasts, down to her navel. She was going to take this just as slowly as he was. It was another version of the game they always played. Their little game of who could hold out the longest.

Still on his knees, he hooked his fingers into the waist of her leggings, peeling them down over the Twi'lek's thighs to reveal even more of the feral tattooed striping. He leaned forward slowly, narrowing an amber eye on Nox as she lounged languidly in the chair only a few feet away, his lips tracing over the more-than-pale curvature beneath his fingers. His gaze was unwavering, and as if in slow-motion, she watched his mouth open, watched his teeth dig into the soft flesh just above her hip. Nox knew that it wasn't her, obviously, but she could almost feel it. Almost. Maybe it was because she wanted it to be her badly enough, because bloody hell did she love having his teeth...everything...all over her, or perhaps it was because she was practically swimming in the other woman's waves of lust. 

He helped Kira step out of her leggings and then got to his feet, threading the fingers of one hand with hers as he allowed her to guide the movement of his fingertips, telling him exactly where to go and what to do. It was getting to be too much. Nox was watching, a voluntarily captive audience, and her fingers followed along. Where he slipped, she slid...when two fingers disappeared, she did the same with three...and when he grazed his teeth over the side of Kira's exposed throat, forcing her to incline her head for him, her eyes fluttered shut, her mind...and other things...running wild with longing. 

A muffled whisper reached her ear, and she forced herself to look. Kira had wrapped her free arm up around his neck, both lek curling and uncurling together as her knees started to go weak from his ministrations. Before long, he had to hold her up. He hooked both arms around her midsection, dragging her over to the side of the bed, still perfectly within view.

In one breath, his eye was on Nox, and in the next, he was shoving the Twi'lek down against the bed. Another breath and she saw his arm move, heard the familiar metallic jingle. He wouldn't be bothered to rid himself of his own clothes this early on. He never did. And somehow, that was so much hotter than waiting.  

To see him like that, in that moment, any and all remaining doubt fell away, and for a time, no matter how fleeting, there was no pain or fear. She loved him, she'd always loved him...and there he stood, leather pistol holster still stretched over his wide shoulders, cream-colored linen shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows...readying himself to fuck the ever loving shite out of another woman.

Watching it was torture. Pure delicious torture. It never got any easier, it wasn't supposed to, and she hoped, more than anything, that it would stay that way. 

She closed her eyes, listening. Every pant, every pathetic little mewl...skin on skin contact...she could hear it all, and she could picture everything in her mind, driving her up the wall she'd built up in her gut. Why everything seemed to come together in her head when they were right there in front of her, in every sense of the word, she had no idea. She didn't know how Nik did it. When he watched, he was relentless to the point of unblinking. 

At the sound of a surprised huff and a distinct thud, her eyes snapped open, fearing the worst, but they were unfounded. Kira had taken over, as she knew her friend would at some point, and Nik had been thrown into the wall. He was used to being the one in charge, but he'd known going in that all bets were off. The Twi'lek pounced on him...it was most definitely a pounce, for all intents and purposes, shoving him back into the wall again with the force of her mouth over his.

He was going to fight her for it. It was classic 'Nik'. His arms went around her torso, hands grasping for leverage, and he made to hike her up into the air so that he could turn and slam her up against the wall himself and finish what he'd started. But that wasn't the game. And this time, he wasn't going to win.

There was another shove, and the pirate found himself sprawled out onto the bed on his back...blasters, pants, and all. In fact, she'd almost thrown him clear over it. 

It most certainly was not comical in any shape or form to see him manhandled in such a way...not amusing in the least. Really!

Not really...

One. Two. Three. Four. Kira crawled up onto the bed to follow, giving him barely enough time to shimmy himself away from the edge before she was on him again. A predator taking down her prey.

And he'd thought _he_ was going to fuck the shite out of _her_...they'd learned a long time ago that fantasies didn't always play out exactly as planned.

Nox saw everything from an angle. She saw the Twi'lek throw her head back towards the ceiling, the tips of either lek grazing back and forth over his knees with each movement. She saw the way his hands pawed over every little bit of flesh he could reach...the way the base of his length slipped and slid and disappeared where her thighs parted around him. And she heard the sound of the whispered expletives tumbling out of his mouth as the Twi'lek ground herself into him with enough force to practically walk them off the bed.

She wanted to scream. It wasn't jealousy...in that sense. It was something else, something that lit a fire in her gut like none other. Part of her wanted to run over to the bed and throw the Twi'lek to the side so that she could have him to herself. Another part wanted to go to him and drink down his ragged breaths as Kira quite literally, and quite thoroughly laid him out. And she very nearly did. Almost. She imagined he was expecting it, and probably even wanted it. But there was yet another part of her, a small yet overbearing part that wanted to stay right in that chair and wallow in her little puddle of misery. 

Still forcing herself to stay with the present, Nox watched him grab at the Twi'lek's hips, his fingers digging in harder and harder, pulling her to him as he rushed to meet each of her thrusts. She could tell he was close. She knew those sounds by heart, and when she allowed her eyes to slide shut again, they only grew louder. 

In her head, she was there, she was the one he was crying out for. She could feel him inside of her...they were both nearing the edge, ready to fall over. She couldn't breathe. Her insides started to quiver, and then, out of nowhere, an image flashed into her head. It was only a flicker, but it was enough. Theron. Theron on the bed in much the same fashion, being worked over in much the same way, completely losing himself to a right fucking. 

Where in the bloody hell had _that_ come from? 

There was no time to examine it. Her eyes popped open in surprise and she bit down on her lip, failing quite miserably to suppress the whimper that escaped from that particular image, unbidden as it may have been. She heard Nik swear again, hitting his climax, and she ran her hands down over her thighs, her own release a surety as the fire in her gut flared into a full-on explosion, pushing her right off the edge. She wasn't sure if it was that naughty little image of Theron or the sound of Nik getting off that did it, but either way...it happened.

It wasn't as if she didn't fantasize about the almost offensively beautiful SIS agent from time to time time. And if she was being truthful, it was probably a bit more often than she cared to admit, even to herself. She just tried not to do it when she was with Nik...especially when she was trying to get off while thinking about Nik.

_"Don't. Fucking. Move..."_

As if. She was a puddle of melted nothingness sitting in a chair. Standing was the last thing on her mind. 

She heard his order, though it sounded more like a half-hearted request in his post-coital stupor, and opened her eyes to see that he was looking right at her, upside down, still very much pinned to the bed by a Twi'lek who was coming down out of the clouds. Her hands had fallen to his chest, and she leaned over him, catching her breath for a moment, and then flopped over onto her back, off somewhere enjoying her own personal slice of orgasmic bliss. Nox hadn't heard the Twi'lek hit her peak, but she hadn't exactly been listening for it either. Nik knew what he was doing, and judging by the look on her friend's face, there was no disappointment. Faking was not her bag, not to mention the fact that she'd been the one doing most of the work anyways. 

Rolling himself off the bed, Andronikos stripped himself of his shoulder holster and shirt, tossing them haphazardly to the floor, his boots and pants following quickly after. His sex-induced fog had broken, and he reached the armchair where she still lounged, bending to his knees in front of her. Gazing up at her through his lashes, he pushed her knee further to the side and nuzzled into her inner thigh, her pulse already starting to quicken again as his teeth grazed a warning over the sensitive flesh. She threw her head back, hissing through a deep breath at the long lave from his tongue, bottom to top, the over-stimulation making her squirm and wiggle in the chair. He murmured another warning, nipping again.

Don't. Move. It was simple enough, in theory. Her execution might have been lacking.

His fingers bit into her hips, dragging her ass forward to the edge of the chair, pulling her closer, forcing her knees open as far as they could go. 

She barely managed to crack an eye open, and she saw that Kira was lounging on her stomach, watching them with an almost comically drunken grin on her face. A nip, followed by a less-than-cautious tug, more than served to distract her from whatever the Twi'lek was doing. At the moment, she couldn't have cared less if Kira started doing jumping jacks in the corner. She was fighting with herself, trying not to move, and she bit down on the side of her lower lip, digging her fingers into the pirate's tensed forearms. Damn him. He knew just where to bite. Just where to pull. The ball of pressure was building again, one step away from white light. She was holding her breath, her mouth opened around a soundless gasp. One more nip...

"Not yet, you don't..."

FUCK!

It was his favorite form of torture. He'd always said that he'd never grow tired of having his face down there, but he never wanted her to get used to the idea of a guaranteed release when he did it. And how she hated him for it.

Releasing his hold on her thighs, he laughed at the frustrated mewling sounds coming out of her mouth, and then grabbed her by the forearms, wrapping them around his neck so that he could gather her into his arms. He hiked her into the air, holding her to his chest as he carried her the short distance to the bed. She wasn't sure why she'd thought for even a split second that he was going to be gentle about it. She couldn't have been more wrong. What actually happened was that she found herself tossed like a sack into a waiting pair of black-and-white striped arms. 

The Twi'lek took over, leaving Andronikos to watch as she hooked her hands under her shoulders, dragging her back towards the headboard to rest between her legs. Nox leaned back, letting her friend wrap her arms around her torso, finding herself enveloped in the woman's eternally smoky-vanilla scent. She smelled wild...of battles fought and won, of passions given and received in the heat of combat. And...she smelled like Nik. 

He was just standing there, watching, not even bothering to sit down. It wouldn't be long. A teenager he was not, thank the stars, but he wasn't out of the game yet. Nox wanted to do to him what he'd done to her...drive him to the point of madness.

Turning her head to the side, she pulled Kira's lips to her, giving herself over. The kiss deepened and she felt a hand slide up to squeeze at her breasts, just as another drifted down a more southerly path. White fingers slipped and slid against her, bringing her right back up to where Nik had left her hanging. One. Two. She curled her fingers upwards, the heel of her hand grinding against her with each slow, teasing stroke. Nox broke the kiss to moan to the ceiling, willing herself to open an eye and check on Nik. He was still there, watching them with renewed hunger, already beginning to recover from his previous release.

The Twi'lek was playing her like an instrument, putting her on display for the pirate to claim as his own.

Arching her back against the body beneath her, Nox slipped her fingers beneath the heel of the hand set upon her. She tugged at the jewelry situated right above her clit, driving herself further and further to the edge as they both worked together, one stroking her like a cat from the inside, the other teasing her to insanity on the outside. She moaned again, tilting her head back against the other woman's shoulder in open invitation. Her throat was exposed, ripe for the taking, and her skin bloomed into a small sea of gooseflesh when she felt the tip of a tongue run across, followed by the barest touch of teeth.

She was quickly losing herself, and she vaguely registered a voice, as well as movement at the end of the bed. And then from above.

Not wasting any time, Andronikos settled himself over her, supporting his weight with one hand planted against the wall. The other snaked behind her knee, forcing it upwards, testing her level of flexibility. As if through a haze, she watched Kira bring her fingertips to the pirate's lips, watched him reach out, taking them without hesitation...felt Kira lean forward to join him, their mouths colliding together in a rather sloppy mess. 

And it was all too much.

She needed release. He was right there, sliding against her, teasing her, making her want nothing more than to just end it. She wrapped her fingers around his length, stroking him to even further attention, and she managed a tight smile at the baritone sigh heard from above, muffled by his more than occupied mouth. He shifted over her, allowing her to guide him as she saw fit. It wasn't much of a decision...there was only one place that could possibly matter to her at that exact point in time.

She lifted her hips to meet him, the fire in her gut flaring to renewed life as he sunk himself the rest of the way, bottoming out as deeply as he could get. She'd been at the edge for so long...just that alone was almost enough. That welcome sensation of being filled so completely. She craved it.

But instead of just ending it and putting her out of her misery, Nik paced himself, taking the reins as he always did. He was quite pleased with himself, the contented grumble resonating in his chest was proof enough of that. Pleased at her reaction...pleased to have her fingers bite into the taut curve of his backside, pulling him in deeper. Pleased to have her moaning into his mouth as each delicious thrust bumped up against her insides in both the best and worst of ways.

Cradled as she was in Kira's arms, she felt the other woman arch her back, trying to gain more friction between them, every movement from above pushing her body back against the one below. It wasn't enough, however, and in an attempt to squeeze out even more contact, the Twi'lek slithered a hand between the colliding pelvises, letting the pirate's length slide between her index and middle fingers with each of his long strokes. It was an inventive little trick, something all three could make use of, for each of his thrusts served to grind the heel of her hand downwards, hitting all sorts of sensitive spots for one, while also pushing her body even further back for the other.

She was so close. She'd been right there for what seemed like forever. She screwed her eyes shut, bowing her head against the pirate's shoulder, her fingertips digging into the muscle there to find several old scars, including the newer one he'd gained just a few days prior. There was a pathetic little mewl from behind, and she felt a hand slip between them, this time underneath. And even though she was thoroughly wrapped up in herself and finally getting what she wanted, she was still of mind enough to take the hint. She leaned back, twisting her head to the side, her mouth crashing against another desperately seeking contact. Lips. Tongue. Teeth...biting and pulling. She drunk down a pitched moan, felt her stomach twist at the pain of a captured lower lip.

Above her, Nik shifted his position. He forced her leg higher, giving himself more leverage to go even deeper, deep enough to walk that fine line between pleasure and pain. To throw her to the wolves and the point of no return. She was wavering right at the edge, seeing stars...tipping over and then falling, pulling her lip away to cry out as she tumbled off into oblivion. 

But there was no reprieve. He pushed her right through the fog and white light...right back to him. 

He let out an almost-pained grunt, dipping his head down to rest his forehead against hers, his movements becoming more and more ragged as he struggled to catch up with her and find his own release. She ran her mouth over his, their lips just barely grazing in a private gesture of intimacy that had always been for them alone. His muscles moved and flexed beneath her hands, muscles she knew better than her own. Nearly every scar could be identified from memory, and there were a lot, breaking up the smooth parts in scattered patches like rivers and lakes on a map. From blaster bolts to vibroblades to one particularly nasty womp rat, he bore an impressive collection. There were even a few by lightsaber. 

Starting at the base of his spine, her nails blazed a path upwards, giving him warning. Words weren't needed. She knew exactly what he wanted - they'd been together long enough to know just what buttons to push and when.

She reached his shoulder blades, feeling him tense in anticipation, his tongue reaching for her as he sighed into her mouth. Waiting. Wanting. All at once, she squeezed herself around him, like a serpent coiled on a mouse. That was the cue. His breath caught and she dug her nails in mercilessly, raking them down over his back, leaving a series of deep scratches in their wake to be healed by the Force just as fast as she made them.

The pain shot right through to his core, and he bit off a steady stream of expletives to the wall, his back arching so sharply against her she thought it was going to snap as he ground his hips forward, successfully pinning her, as well as the Twi'lek who was now just along for the ride, beneath him. His body went rigid. There was a strangled sort of snarl, and then she felt him finally give himself over. This one had been hard fought, but it was well worth it. She felt every shudder...every twitch from deep within, stubbornly refusing to release him until he'd given her everything he had to give. 

Nik was trembling above her, barely able to hold himself up. His skin was damp to the touch, from both sweat and blood, and it all smeared together as she kneaded and folded at his shoulders, working the over-strained muscles loose. The blood had remained. The wounds she'd inflicted had not. It wasn't uncommon for one or both of them to walk away from sex a little worse for wear. Bruises. Scratches. Bites. They were both into it. And her natural-born healing talents...well, that was his kink. One of them at least. It had been since the beginning, since the first time she'd healed him. She didn't dig into that particular bag of tricks all the time, however. On a normal day, he relied on kolto just like she had to.

Too much of a good thing, they say... 

His shallow puffs of breath skittered across her face, tickling at her lashes, at the tiny wisps of hair that had fallen over her own sweat-soaked brow. He was starting to relax, going limp inside and out, and in a last-ditch burst of energy, he rolled onto his side, carrying her with him. The cold rush of air that hit her back as she was pulled away from the Twi'lek beneath her was a more than welcome relief, for the both of them, she was sure. 

Thoroughly exhausted, wet, and consequently very sticky, they lay there in a mass of tangled arms and legs. The bed was barely large enough for the three of them. In reality, it pretty much wasn't. Spoon or risk hitting the floor. It was all very hot, in a literal sense, and Nox silently thanked whoever it was that had invented the concept of air conditioning. 

"You can borrow me any time, luv..." She heard a tired giggle at her back, a yawn stifled between her shoulder blades. "Standing offer..."

Nox let out an amused little huff through her nose, reaching behind to pat at her friend's arm. One night. That was the rule. Things got messy otherwise. Kira knew that. 

Andronikos pulled her in closer, running the backs of his knuckles over her cheek, one of only two people who had ever dared touch her scars, not counting the man who had put them there. He'd always been big on cuddling, though he'd never admit it. Surprising, but yes, he was a sex-cuddler. Sleep, however, was another matter entirely. It was all about the real-estate. They'd grown out of the habit of sleeping in pretzel a long time ago. It could start out that way, sure, but eventually, he'd wiggle free and the war for space would begin.

That...would not be happening in this bed. 

\---------------

Disentangling herself from the Twi'lek that had somehow managed to wrap herself around her back like a monkey, Nox scrabbled out of the bed and padded across the cold floor plating to the refresher. She paused at the door, peeking back around the corner to smile at the pirate's sleeping form. He had managed to find his own space after all. Somewhat. His ass was practically hanging off the edge. She smiled to herself, waiting for him to unconsciously figure out that she'd gotten up and pull a fast one. He was usually pretty quick when it came to claiming territory. 

When he was asleep, Andronikos looked so much younger...so much so that she could almost forget the near-fourteen year difference between them. Truly, she could only guess. She really had no idea about her actual birthday, but she figured it had to be close, more or less. Clearly, he had no issues keeping up with a Sith, or two for that matter (well, maybe not two on a permanent basis), and he only ever grew more handsome with each passing year.

But, she knew that a life spent making war took its tolls on the body, even her own. She could heal him a thousand times over, and it seemed like she already had, at the very least, but the time would eventually come when a wound taken in the field wouldn't knit so perfectly, to be forgotten shortly thereafter. And, there had been nights when she'd caught him rubbing at a sore joint or two, glossing over his obvious discomfort. Those nights, it was her turn to hold him down and tend to his aches, soothing away his pain the same way he took care of her when she needed it. 

No longer could she imagine a life without that man in it. All of the foul language. All of the arguments. All of the bar fights. All of the blatant disrespect for anything Imperial. Everything. She didn't want to think about it. Ever. 

She glanced at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back out at her. That stranger looked like shite. Pained. Tired. Bags under her eyes. She needed a holiday. And who knew when that would happen. That was her life. One battle at a time. 

And that mirror could rightly go fuck itself. Yes. She said it. Six years of living with a pirate who made swearing an art form had most definitely worn off on her. 

Groaning again at her appearance, she turned towards the frosted door to the shower bay, and her mood ratcheted back up by a notch. Water. Actual water. A sonic was always an efficient choice, but nothing felt quite like a scalding hot shower. She turned the knob, letting the water run down over the red-tinged palm of her hand. It was hot. So hot she had to force it to stay there. It was perfect.

The steaming cascade bit into her shoulders, loosening knots that had built up from what seemed like months worth of stress. She leaned forward, hanging her head, and placed her hands flat against the wall, just soaking it all in. Her shoulders slumped. Her breathing slowed. She watched the sticky sweat and grime and semen wash away...watched it all run down her legs and pool at her feet to be claimed by the drain, all but forgotten. 

Before long, she heard the bay door open and close again, announcing the presence of another body in the shower with her. She was too tired to bother looking up, and entirely too tired to figure it out the mystical way. That little surprise vision had thrown her for a loop, and her mind had been tightly locked down since.

Nox heard the snap of a shampoo bottle, the distinct sploshing sound of the custom-made mixture being squeezed into the palm of a hand. A body stepped closer, so close she imagined she could feel the heat from it even though she really couldn't. Fingers ran up the side of her neck. Masculine fingers she knew all too well. 

She leaned back against him, her eyes fluttering closed as his fingertips massaged the suds into her scalp. He worked them down the length of her hair, running his fingers through the loose strands, gently pulling at any tangles that cropped up. This was something he'd done countless times before. It was another private activity they shared, something just for them. Once he was finished with her hair, his hands encircled her throat, and began digging into the remaining knots in her shoulders. She was utterly relaxed, practically purring under his soapy touch.

"I hope you know I do love you..."

_What?_

Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of his gravelly voice. She froze. Those words...she'd never heard them before. Not from anybody. And she had no idea what to do about it. 

She reached out with her mind, immediately upset with herself at the knee-jerk reaction. That wasn't her, not when it came to Nik. She'd always respected his privacy, and it was a virtue more Sith would benefit from learning. But, he let her in without hesitation, almost as if the touch had been expected. And to her surprise, there it was, laid out before her, surrounded by a writhing mass of pride, fear, hateful envy, and...hope. She panicked, yanking her mind away like a hand burned by fire, her heartbeat starting to waver uncontrollably.

What was he expecting her to say? That she loved him back? 

Saying it made it real. And dangerous. Something she couldn't avoid and pretend it didn't exist. She'd seen similar emotions when Theron had opened his mind to her, but he didn't _say_ anything about it. 

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. It had to have been obvious to him she was having a minor freak-out. Breakdown. Mental collapse of the highest order. Perhaps he'd even anticipated it.

Just how long had he been building up for this? 

The silence between them was growing palpable. She had to say something. But what? What could she say? The feelings were there...she did love him, very much so, but she just couldn't find the words. Sith weren't supposed to fall in love. It was a weakness. Or could it be that she was afraid to admit to herself that she even deserved to be loved? She'd spent her entire life serving as a tool to be wielded. A weapon. A servant. A plaything. Even as a Dark Councilor, she still served. And who could love a tool? Why would anyone want to?

Or...maybe that was all in her head and he didn't need to hear anything. He appeared to be completely unfazed, working away at her skin with his fingers as if nothing had happened. 

_Just. Say. Something._

She gulped in another deep breath, concentrating on his steady movements. His thumbs passed over her shoulder blades, tracing slow circles towards her spine. Up to the base of her neck. Down the sides of her arms. Slow and steady. A counterpoint to anchor her runaway heart rate.

"Nik, I...I......I know..." That was the best she could do. She'd tried. It was on the tip of her tongue, but it just wouldn't come out.

She reached up to her shoulder, placing a hand over his. There was a hint of hesitation, she heard the slightest, almost imperceptible sigh from behind, which she suspected he was trying to hide, and then felt him thread their fingers together. It would have to be enough. For now. She hoped he could accept that. 

“Don't ever push me away again...”

His words may have been in the form of a demand, but the delivery most definitely was not. She'd never heard him speak with such vulnerability in his voice before, and she thought her heart was going to shatter right there in that shower stall...left to run down her legs and pool at her feet...to be claimed by the drain...all but forgotten. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter has been reworked from its original state. The plot remains the same.


	18. Yellow Flicker Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Volcano girls blow some stuff up. Pierce gets weird. Shit goes sideways. Fast.

Makeb – Stronghold One – Nox

“Remind me again why we're doing this? Because this was not where I saw my day going when I woke up this morning.”

Nox couldn't help the slight eye roll she made at nobody in particular as she paced back and forth, hoping to feel some semblance of a breeze on her face. The air inside the volcanic crater was absolutely stifling, and it had become difficult to breathe. She was hot, she was sweaty, she was cranky, and she was so over this mission already. “And where exactly did you see your day going?” she spat, more annoyed at the situation they found themselves in, rather than at her friend's rhetorical question.

“Certainly not tits deep in a bloody volcano, that's for sure. Reminds me of Oricon, without all the constant mind-fuckage.” Casting a wary glance behind her, the Wrath spun her lightsaber anxiously in her hand, body tensed in constant preparation for an attack. They'd found that despite the oppressive heat, the cavern was actually quite bustling with life, aggressive life that did not enjoy the presence of their surface-dwelling guests.

Kira knew exactly why they had both found themselves in the bowels of the earth beneath Stronghold One. It was a matter of resources, and in this case, Pierce was the resource. He was the best demolitions expert they had, and the Twi'lek would have no part of him being down there without her. Nox couldn't say that she blamed her, the place was a rather different sort of hell than they were all used to handling.

And then there was the fact that she'd gone and assigned Andronikos to Kira's team to serve as backup. He may have turned to a life of piracy, but he was useful for more than just following them around with a blaster. Many years before they'd met, he'd been an officer in the Republic Navy, and even though it could be ignored, rigid military training of any type was not so easily forgotten, which made him just as much of an asset as the Lieutenant. And even though Nox had all confidence that the Wrath could safely escort the demo team though the crater on her own, like a fool, she couldn't bring herself to leave Nik there either. She knew better, she should have been with Cytharat and the rest of the strike team. She was showing her weakness again. They both were.

Nik was furious with her for assigning him to someone else. That had been an argument to be seen...and heard. She had tried to point out the facts, that it was a tactically sound decision. Kira was a sledgehammer. She only needed to be pointed at a target, and the target was the isotope. Andronikos and Pierce would back her up and assist with carrying the resource out of the installation. Nox would hold their position with Cytharat, and serve as the key coordinator for the assault between the infiltration team and base. It had taken quite a bit of convincing – yelling, maybe a little more than yelling – but eventually, he'd given in and admitted that she was right, even though he didn't like it.

An Imperial would have just rolled over and taken her at her word, saving her the time of even having to explain her reasoning, but not Nik. The man argued as intensely as he made love, sometimes at the same time, and he never held back for fear of her retribution or reprisal. Ever. And it wasn't that she didn't listen to him. She did. Just not in this instance.

_"No, no I said the red one! What, are you color-blind, old man?"_

Nox's attention was drawn across a stream of molten rock to where the men were working on the last of the three charges. Whatever they were doing, it was entirely above her realm of knowledge. Force chokes, lightsabers and the delicate intricacies of political maneuvering she understood, but explosives were something else entirely. All she knew was that they had to plant the charges so that they could set off a pinpoint blast that would take out the installation's main security. The only thing for the two Sith to do was to wait and leave Pierce to his work. 

“So, Kira?” Swiping a forearm over her sweaty brow, Nox turned from her pacing back towards the Twi'lek.

“Uh oh,” the other woman flinched. “I don't like where this is going already...”

_"Hey, it's been a while since I've had to do this sort of shit. And go ahead...call me old again."_

Nox was bored. And hot. So very hot. She needed a distraction, and picking on her friend would do for now. Trying her best to keep a straight face, she found a blank spot on the wall to focus on, idly brushing at dust that had settled on her damp skin. “ _You_ were thinking about Theron,” she announced to the air, as if she were stating a trivial fact.

"You caught that, I see..." Kira sheathed her saber, arching a single tattooed brow in question, her face scrunched up in embarrassment.

_"Well, you're gonna blow us up if you aren't careful. STOP! Just...go stand over there."_

Throwing just a bit of an over-the-top scowl to her expression, she locked her gaze on the Twi'lek, watching with satisfaction as the other woman threw up her arms in frustration, her leather-bound lekku swaying together behind her from the force of her movement.

“I know! I'm sorry! I got carried away and, well, you know me. Pretty things and all...my mind goes a'flutter,” she responded, her shoulders slumping in a submissive manner that would never have seen the light of day outside of their private little circle.

“Indeed...” Nox cracked a smile, letting the Twi'lek know she was just messing with her. “I can hardly fault you for what goes on in your own head. But, you know I'm struggling here. I don't need your help in thinking about _that_ ,” she laughed, reaching her hands up behind her neck to gather her sweat-soaked hair away from her skin. “Bloody hell, this heat! Be thankful you don't have any hair...”

“Who doesn't have any hair?” Finished with the final charge, Andronikos picked his way across the stream of molten rock, hopping from stone to stone with Pierce close at his heels. In a classic 'Andronikos' move, he'd overheard the tail end of their conversation and felt the need to butt in.

Shaking her head in amusement, Nox flicked a hand back towards the Twi'lek, who quite obviously had no hair. “Well, now that I think of it, you don't either,” she chuckled. “Can we please go now?” At the Lieutenant's nod, Nox mouthed a silent 'finally' in thanks and opened up a holo-channel to the team base at Gravity Hook Seven. “The last of the charges are in place. Support team, confirm,” she intoned, her mask of professionalism slipping on effortlessly, despite the immense distraction of the heat. “Ms. Niar, do you read?”

“ _Confirmed, my Lord. We'll get a major groundquake when those go off. Recommend you find shelter before detonation. The mercenaries' landing pad isn't far – it should be sturdy enough not to collapse.”_

Not wanting to waste any more time than was necessary in that inhospitable environment, Nox waved to her counterparts and began making her way towards the cavern entrance, breaking into a light jog as she continued with the conversation. “And Lord Cytharat?”

“ _Lord Cytharat and his strike team are on a mesa three kilometers north, waiting for word. He will join you once you confirm detonation. It's over to you, my Lord.”_

As soon as she felt the tiniest wisp of cool breeze on her face, Nox sighed audibly, taking in a huge breath of fresh air as she closed her eyes in relief. Resting for a moment, she held out a hand to the cave wall, noticing that the rocks were no longer hot to the touch, but were instead cold and moist. Nox wanted nothing more than to lean against the wall and let the coolness of the stone soak into her overheated bones, but out of the still gloom, she heard faint voices drifting to them from the cavern entrance. There would be no rest for the wicked, it seemed.

“Mercs,” Pierce whispered. “We're going to have to clear the area around the landing pad before we can set off the charges. Have to get 'em all – don't want to risk leaving any to set off the alarm.”

Unsheathing her saberstaff, Nox nodded to the darkness, igniting the red blade to reflect back the fire of excitement in her eyes. “Leave the first group to me. I can take them out quietly. Once they're down, follow behind and pick your targets.” She didn't need to tell them to give no mercy – they would leave none alive.

She grinned, arching her brows into a naughty little quirk as she sheathed the saberstaff, letting the shadows swallow them once again. Drawing on the Force to muffle her movements, she crept around a corner, finding two heavily armored mercenaries standing guard at the mouth of the cavern. The two men shared a bout of laughter at an unknown jest, completely oblivious to the fact that they were being stalked by a deadly predator. She would need to be quick in dispatching them both at the same time in order to avoid one alerting the rest. Child's play. She crept closer, coming right up behind the guard on the right, lining up her saber hilt against his back. Narrowing her eyes on her target, she ignited the blade, effectively skewering him right through the heart as he let out a bark of laughter, the sound cut abruptly short as he looked down to see the red blade jutting out of his chest.

When the other guard turned towards the thrumming sound of the lightsaber, Nox reached out with her left hand and gripped at the man's neck through the Force, choking off his surprised gurgle as her fingers bore down on his windpipe. With a flick of her wrist, the man's neck snapped cleanly, leaving him to crumple to the ground in a lifeless mass, followed closely by his counterpart as she withdrew her blade, giving neither man a second glance.

As Nox stood just inside the shadow of the cave entrance assessing her next move, saberstaff resting angled at her side, she felt a hand graze her shoulder and run up the side of her neck. “That's my girl,” Andronikos grumbled into her ear, the rasp of his breath sending tickling shivers down her spine. She tilted her head towards him, unable to resist the crooked smile that his touch elicited, just before disappearing from view again. Picking her next target, Nox saw a streak of white fly by her and launch into a group of Gamorreans like a wrecking ball. That was all the distraction she needed. As the large green Twi'lek in her sights swiveled his assault cannon towards the Wrath's frenzied melee, she popped into view at his back, hopping from a rock up onto his shoulders. Before he even had time to react to the sudden appearance of a second Sith, she stabbed her blade straight downwards, felling him in one swift movement. The man felt nothing. Losing not even a step, Nox used the momentum of the merc's fall to propel herself forward, leaving her to run straight at a Cathar who had sighted her with his sniper rifle. She never reached him. Just as she dove into a roll in order to evade the sniper's precision aim, the merc fell to a pinpoint blaster bolt between the eyes. Nik.

She quickly redirected her stride, pivoting from one leg to the other in a spinning strike at another Twi'lek, connecting with his shoulder as he dodged to block the pirate's blaster bolts. When she landed solidly on two feet, she paused briefly, finding that all the mercs had gone down – eleven within a matter of seconds. Kira stood in the middle of the pile of Gamorreans with Pierce at her back, a huge grin split across her tattooed face. Nox turned, searching for Andronikos. Leaving his cover, the pirate jogged over to her, his brows quirking into the usual 'assume the position' expression so he could make sure she was uninjured. Not a scratch for any of them.

“Support team, preparing to detonate charges.”

“ _Acknowledged.”_

“Care to do the honors, Mason?” Kira chuckled, handing the detonator to a rather giddy Lieutenant. There was something about blowing shit up that always brought a gleam to the man's eyes.

The series of explosions was much larger than she'd expected. An entire cliff face crumbled, throwing all sorts of rocks and debris at them, as well as completely leveling the cave entrance they'd just come through. Out of nowhere, Nox found herself being tackled to the ground, the force of the impact knocking the wind clean out of her lungs. When her vision came back into focus, she saw that Pierce knelt over her on hands and knees, shielding her from a barrage of stones that she hadn't seen flying in her direction. “Forgive me, m'lord.” The man seemed almost embarrassed at his boldness. “I reacted out of instinct, and I would never presume-”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Nox interrupted, doing her best to remain casual while also attempting to ignore the fact that a very large, very armored Imperial held her in a rather compromising position, so close that she was enveloped in the scent of pine needles mixed with smoke and blaster fire. “Thank you.” Hearing laughter from above, she inclined her head to find Kira staring down at them, almost beside herself with amusement. Standing next to her, not so amused, was Andronikos. She wasn't sure if he was upset that he hadn't seen the debris threatening her, or if he was just jealous, or a bit of both. It wasn't as if being tackled to the ground would have been proper foreplay anyways, at least not in this context. Well, not most of the time. Sometimes? And then there were those sparring sessions with Theron. Ugh, never mind. She sighed to herself, realizing that she'd just made her own point. “Lieutenant?”

“Yes, m'lord?”

“May I get up now?”

“Apologies.” As if he had just realized that he was still pinning her to the dirt, he shifted off of her and offered his forearm, pulling her up as he got to his feet. Releasing her arm, he reached an armored hand up to absentmindedly rub at the back of his neck, his ears beginning to flush at the awkwardness of the situation. Nox had never seen the man so flustered and it made her wonder again just what Kira had meant when she'd said that she'd told him 'just enough' about their past. And he obviously must have known about what had transpired the night before. Definitely awkward. He was attractive, for sure, if a little large for her tastes – Nox imagined she could climb the man like a tree – but she was in no hurry to upset the balance that she was just beginning to restore with Andronikos.

Giggling rather loudly, Kira smacked Pierce in the shoulder, thankfully diffusing the tension that had started to build in the air. She looked over at Nox, waggling her brows in a knowing smirk before opening up her comm channel. “Demo team to support team. Status report.”

“ _Demo team, we read you. We're observing power fluctuations. Stronghold One's first tier security protocols are nonfunctional.”_

Nox listened with waning interest to the rest of the conversation. She dusted herself off, her eyes scanning over the surrounding area until they came across Andronikos. The pirate had been watching her with a stony frown marring his features, his mind clearly running at a mile a minute. After a moment, he seemed to come back from wherever his mind had gone, and he closed the distance between them, bringing his face to within inches of hers.

“I still don't like this, Sith.”

She smiled grimly, reaching a hand up to run the backs of her fingers over his cheek. Snarling, he roughly grabbed her wrist before she was able to make contact, holding it in place, his amber eye narrowed on hers in a harsh glare that told her more than words ever could. He increased the pressure of his hold on her, reinforcing everything he couldn't say, his gaze darkening on her in the intensity of the moment.

“ _You're clear to go inside. Lord Cytharat has been notified of your success and is en route to your position.”_

“Alright guys, time to move out.” Out of the corner of her eye, Nox saw Kira roll her shoulders, stretching her head from side to side in anticipation. “Nox...” she continued after a pause, “...we'll see you on the other side.”

Nox had barely heard her friend's order to move out. This was where they would part ways and she would join Cytharat to hold their position against reinforcements after the demo-team-turned-infiltration-team entered the installation. Andronikos made no move to follow. He still held her captive, his hand squeezing at her wrist almost to the point of pain. “I'll be fine, Nik,” she implored, searching his gaze for some hint of belief. She wasn't sure what had changed between them, he'd always had a protective streak, but this certainly didn't feel like any of the times they'd fought separately in the past.

From a distance, Nox heard Pierce call out to the pirate, warning him not to make the Wrath wait. Seemingly snapped out of whatever frozen state he was in, Andronikos brought his other hand up to wrap around hers. “You better be,” he growled. Nox felt herself involuntarily take a breath and hold it around parted lips as she watched him brush his own over the backs of her fingers, all the while locked in his scrutinizing gaze. “Remember what I said.” Releasing her wrist, he turned on his heels and followed after Pierce, leaving her breathless and quite unsettled.

As she watched the pirate walk away, Nox admitted to herself that she was very grateful to have a few minutes alone before Cytharat was to show up, giving her a chance to relax and still her runaway mind.

\---------------

Nox met up with Cytharat and his contingent of six Imperial troopers just outside the same doors she'd seen Andronikos disappear into about ten minutes prior.

“Are you ready, Dark Lord?” the Pureblood asked, holding a hand out towards the door in invitation for her to enter first. “I for one look forward to stretching my legs a little. It has been too long since I've found myself in a proper battle,” he chuckled.

Sighing, Nox couldn't help shaking her head in disbelief. “Be careful what you wish for, Cytharat. I believe there will be more than enough action to go around.” At times she forgot what it was like to be idle for any length of time. In fact, she didn't think she'd ever had that luxury. Well, at least she saw it as a luxury. Maybe it wasn't.

The team entered the base, winding their way through the cold, durasteel-lined corridors. It was quite easy to know which way to go – all they had to do was follow the trail of bodies. Smiling to herself, Nox could tell which ones were taken down by the pirate's pistols. She was pleased to see that he was doing his part, and getting a fair share of the action.

Before long, the team reached a room that appeared to be the base's center of communications. This was the room to hold. The mercs would need to access one of the many terminals lining the walls before they could engage an alarm. “My Lord, I believe this is the room we should hold,” Cytharat mused, as if reading her very thoughts. At her nod, he signaled to his soldiers, ordering them to fan out and take up key positions around the room. “The infiltration team went down that corridor,” he explained, pointing to a doorway to the left. “If reinforcements do show, they'll have to come from behind, or from the right.”

Once the position had been secured, it quickly became a waiting game. A very boring waiting game. “Lord Wrath, we have secured the communications center and await your update.” Up until that point, they hadn't heard anything from the white Twi'lek, which was either a very good, or very bad thing.

“ _Fucking ass. It's not here.”_

The Wrath's voice over the comm sounded harried and out of breath. If Nox didn't know better, she would have assumed they'd just finished one hell of a fight. Her first thought was to ask about Andronikos, but she held back, keeping to the mission. “What do you mean 'it's not here'?” she asked, quirking her brows in curiosity as she waved to Lord Cytharat to join her. 

“ _I mean it's NOT HERE, Nox. We came down here for nothing.”_

“ _Support team to infiltration team, that can't be right. Keep looking.”_ For a moment, Nox had forgotten that their comm channel had been left open to the support team back at Gravity Hook Seven. Nox didn't like the tone in the Imperial's voice, and knowing Kira, neither would she.

“ _I know what I see. Doubt me again, and there will be repercussions. There is NOTHING here.”_ Oh, she was pissed. “ _And Ms. Niar, you would do well to remember that I am slightly less...diplomatic than my counterpart.”_ Nox had to stifle her laughter as she listened to the conversation, her eyes flicking to Cytharat to catch the Pureblood executing a most professional eye roll.

“ _I just mean – I'm sorry, Lord Wrath,”_ she backpedaled, clearing her throat. _“Wait. We're scanning a number of power signatures at your location. Over two dozen. Impossible.”_

“Do try not to keep us in suspense, Ms. Niar,” Nox interjected.

The line remained dead for a moment before she heard the Imperial's voice again. _“They used it all. The Hutts. They used up the isotope to make a damned army!”_

“ _Thanks for stating the obvious at this point. Hold please.”_

“Lord Wrath, fall back. We need to regroup.” In the distance, Nox heard the sound of booted feet on metal grating. Reinforcements. A lot of reinforcements. “Kira!” She looked up, having just enough time to dodge a blaster bolt by rolling out of it's perfect aim right at her head. Shrouding herself with the Force, Nox disappeared from view in order to give herself a chance to assess the situation. A dozen mercs, more on the way, crowded into the room from both doors. She saw a number of blaster rifles as well as a couple heavier cannons. These forces were clearly prepared. They had walked right into a trap.

“ _King Slug knows we're here. And why. Oh fun...droids. Lots of droids.”_

Nox didn't have time to process Kira's last words, as the sound from her comm had given her position away to the mercs. Growling, she quickly switched it off, diving for a clear corner of the room as several bolts landed where she had just been standing. She picked her targets, but she had to be careful. There was a reason why she generally avoided going dark unless she absolutely had to while in situations such as this one. Friendly-fire could easily become a very real thing when her own men couldn't even tell where she was. She had to trust them implicitly to know where she'd be at all times and not hit her, and she'd never fought with these soldiers before.

Successfully proving her point, a blaster bolt whizzed by her head, fired by an Imperial. She'd have to do this the hard way. Materializing into view, Nox rolled towards the nearest merc, popping up in time to sidestep around a vibroknife to the hip. When his blade struck only air, the merc was thrown off-balance ever so slightly, giving her time to execute a spinning back kick right into his chest, pushing him back against two other mercs and sending them to the floor in a heaping pile to be quickly picked off by her own troops.

Lips curled into a wicked grin, she spared a moment to locate Cytharat's red blade through the chaos, finding the Pureblood holding his own quite well. Not quite as aggressive as Kira, or as elaborate as her own hybridized forms, the other Sith appeared to use a style somewhere in the middle. She couldn't help chuckling to herself that he had indeed gotten his wish.

Nox pivoted and spun through the sea of mercs, deflecting blaster bolts where she could, sometimes even managing to hit an enemy with them. All was going rather well, until the thought crossed her mind that they might actually get out of this with their skin still intact. And then the worst happened. A large human, almost as large as Pierce, somehow managed to get close enough to her. There was a brief instant where she saw his fist, and then it connected with her jaw, sending stars to explode before her eyes. It also gave him the chance to rip her lightsaber clean out of her hands and throw it across the room. “Not so tough now, are we, bitch?”

Her vision swimming, Nox fought to stay on her feet, quickly regaining her balance to luckily dodge out of the way of the man's next punch. She lashed out with a hand, opening herself to the Force in an effort to choke the bastard, but her head still swam enough that it slipped through her fingers like water. She could feel it, but it was just out of reach. Well, she'd have to do this the even harder way then.

Laughing at his good fortune, the merc swung again, narrowly missing her as she flipped backwards, giving her room to land a kick to his chin. As Nox pivoted back towards him, she noticed that she'd only managed to piss him off even more. The merc was so large, that without supplementing her hits with the Force, she wasn't going to be strong enough to fight him on her own. But, she could avoid his slower movements like a champ. Her confidence bolstered, Nox sneered at the man, goading him into making another move. In his rage, he was growing frustrated, and sloppy. With his final swing, she rolled between his legs at the last moment, coming up behind him to kick at the backs of his knees with both booted feet. Legs buckling under his own weight, the man grunted, falling to the floor in front of her.

Before he had a chance to recover, she spun her legs to kick herself back to her feet and circled around to his front. Looking into the man's eyes, she again reached out her hand, finding the Force willing this time. “Not so tough now, are we, bitch?” she mocked. The man's eyes went wide, and for a moment she savored the thrill of the kill before snapping his neck like a twig. “Whew, thank you, Theron,” she huffed, remembering the spy's rather literal tutelage about how the bigger they were, the harder they fell. Heart threatening to pound out of her chest, she took a deep breath, eyes scanning the ground for her lightsaber.

“MY LORD, LOOK OUT!”

From her periphery, Nox saw a flash of light and then everything went dark. She felt like she had been dropped into a warm pool, the relaxing warmth seeping into her sore muscles like a balm as she drifted down to the bottom, wrapped in a soft blanket of stillness. From above, the muffled voices became an almost irritating intrusion on her privacy.   

> Out of the depths, she heard more voices. Why wouldn't they just leave her alone? Who was there...Theron? Nik? Kira? No, there was another. The voice was raw, guttural, sharp...deeper than even the pirate's. Tearing her to pieces. They all blended together, weaving in and out and around into one common cord, all seeming to scream at her at once.

> “ _I couldn't live if I lost you...”_
> 
> “ _Traitor! Give me one reason why I shouldn't cut you down where you stand.”_

“Don't touch her!”

>  She was standing on the edge of a precipice overlooking a dark city that was unlike any she had ever seen before. The sharp towers reached to the sky and beyond, up above the clouds, going on for what seemed like forever. She turned to walk away and found herself on yet another ledge, watching in horror as entire worlds burned, a sea of ships raining fire over countless landscapes. Mountains. Trees. Men. Women. Children. Republic and Empire alike. They all burned. There was someone behind her. Pushing. She fell. Or was she being lifted?
> 
>  “ _Everything you've done has been leading up to this moment...”_

“It's okay...I have you. Just...hold on.”

>  She saw a man clad in brilliant white and gold, the light reflecting off of his flawless armor almost searing into her vision. The majority of his face was covered in an expressionless mask, save for a single eye turned on her, a golden eye wreathed in flame that was so piercing it felt like he could see straight through to her very being. She held up a hand to shield herself from the blinding light, but she couldn't escape him.
> 
>  “ _Can't you see? We're one and the same...”_

“Get us the fuck out of here! NOW!”

> The man was laughing at her. As if in slow motion, she watched captivated as he unsheathed an elegant yellow-bladed lightsaber, his eye narrowing on her in rage as he drove it through her side without hesitation. Laughing, always laughing. No, that wasn't right. Laid bare before him, he had her pinned up against a wall, his hands and body on hers, bringing them together to levels of ecstasy she never thought possible. Possessed by his iron gaze, his very existence seemed to burn through everything she had ever been until there was nothing left. Only him. No, not that either. Her throat. His hand was at her throat, leaving deep finger-shaped bruises as he held her in the air with a mechanical grip, a captive at his mercy. No, still not right. On a decadent rooftop, they fought against each other until she cut him down, finally ending him for all the galaxy to see. In another blink, she saw him kneel before her on the same rooftop, instead pledging his undying allegiance above all else. The paths may have been different, but they always ended in the same place. Standing at her back, adding his strength to her own, they fought in tandem as one, cutting through unending swaths of formless shrouded figures until the darkness swallowed them both whole. Nemeses. Lovers. Allies. Forever and always.

“Talos, be ready for us when we get back to base. ETA ten minutes.”

> _“Why, they are my children, of course...”_
> 
> _"You and me...we're forever..."_
> 
> _“I wonder what it would look like to see his blood sprayed all over your face..."_
> 
> _“You turned your back on your own people...”_
> 
> _“You're a monster...”_

“You better keep your promise, baby...otherwise I'll chase you straight into the damned void just to hold you to it...”

>  
> 
> “ _I love you too...but I can't...”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so yeah...this went completely out there in left field. I take no responsibility. Nothing to see here. All gobbledygook. :P
> 
> A note on my divergence from the game - I hated how they pulled Cytharat and you don't see him again at all after that particular mission. So Nox gets her ass kicked instead. Yup. 
> 
> Oh, and Nadrin...I like him and all, but too many characters just becomes too many characters at a point, so I tried to limit it.


	19. The Lowest Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nox finds herself a captive audience.  
> A conversation is had.  
> Nik is an adult.  
> Hold onto your butts, people....
> 
> “The Lowest Low”  
> The Birthday Massacre  
>   
> I'm falling off the deep end  
> Tearing at the seams again  
> Tell me that it's obvious  
> And I've just hit the lowest low
> 
> When you collapse all the colours change  
> Like a hexagon storm  
> Look for my reflection and can't see my face  
> I killed my past just to be reborn
> 
> Lay all my mistakes  
> Beside each other, throw them away  
> The surface I'm sinking under  
> What's at the bottom that I can discover?

 

??? – Nox

Nox woke to the taste of her own stale blood. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, dry and rough. She cast it about, feeling a gash in the side of her cheek. At some point, she must have bitten down hard enough to cause the damage, because that was where the dull, metallic taste was coming from. The slight movement sent shooting pains up her jaw, forcing her to pop her eyes open and cry out at the surprise.

The light was blinding. She reached up a hand to shield her eyes, at least she tried. Her arm felt slow and heavy, like it was filled with sand. Ugh, she hurt. Everything hurt. Stars, if she didn't know better, she'd say that even her hair had somehow managed to hurt. She found it difficult to focus – everything was hazy, her mind chasing at thoughts lost in a fog. She'd been dreaming, but she couldn't remember about what. Theron? Nik? The only thing that she could recall was a sleek mask and a fiery yellow eye, an eye that stared her down, like a warning on the horizon, foretelling of her future. It terrified her.

“Talos, get your ass in here! She's awake...” There was no mistaking that voice.

“Nik?” She cracked her eyes open again, wincing at the brightness. As her vision came into focus, she saw the pirate's back moving away from her towards a panel on the wall, keying the lights down. Shifting her focus away from him, she noticed that she was in a room she didn't recognize. And she was wearing nothing but a baggy shirt, one of Nik's if her nose wasn't lying to her about the presence of his warm, spicy scent clinging to the fabric. She wasn't in a medical bay, and she wasn't in Gravity Hook Seven. “Where the bloody hell are we?” She looked about in confusion, turning her head as best as she could. She was in a bed, an uncomfortable bed, in a small room that looked like it would have seen better use as a broom closet. There was a small chair next to the bed with a datapad tossed onto the seat, still on. Andronikos must have been sitting there before she woke up.

Just as the pirate opened his mouth to respond to her question, the door slid open, revealing a highly excitable Talos Drellik carrying a pitcher of water and a couple of cups. “My lord, I'm so glad to see you're awake! We'd started to take bets on how long you were going to be out.” Scurrying past Nik's taller form, Talos came to stand by the side of the bed and inspect an IV bag that hung on a hook to her right. Nox followed the tubing down to the back of her hand – she hadn't even realized that she had a catheter stuck into her skin, but sure enough, there it was, taped down above her first knuckles. “That should just about do it...” he prattled on to himself, jostling the bottom of the near-empty bag.

Andronikos moved to the side of the bed opposite Talos and slid his hands underneath Nox's shoulders, quirking his eyebrows in warning that he was going to lift them from the bed. “The science team was relocated to an abandoned mining platform about ten klicks away from Gravity Hook Seven.” At her nod, he lifted, mouth set in a grim line at hearing her accompanying yelp, and slid a couple more pillows behind her, putting her into more of a sitting position.“This palatial cubby hole,” he explained, making a wide gesture about the room, “is the foreman's quarters.”

“What? Why? Ugh, and why do I feel like I've been thrown off a bridge?” Grimacing, Nox reached a heavy hand to her forehead and gingerly touched down along her left jaw, hissing through her teeth at the pain that shot up into her temple.

“Just, slow down, alright? You practically _did_ get thrown off a bridge.” The pirate picked up the pitcher of water that Talos had brought and poured a cup, pushing it into her hands with a tilt of his chin, the order to drink it all without argument given and received. “How much do you remember?”

“Stronghold One. It was a bust.” The water was room temperature, but it felt like honey coating her dry tongue and throat.

“That's putting it lightly,” he spat. “Fucking worms laid a trap. Overran your position. You took a grenade at close range. Only thing that saved you was the body of a merc that shielded you. We dug you out from underneath the poor bastard.” He refilled the cup, tilting his chin in the same manner. “After you finish that, you need to eat something. You've been in and out for almost two days.”

“WHAT?” She tried to hand the cup back to him and started to scooch towards the side of the bed to get up, despite her body's rather insistent protestations against anything of the sort.

Nik pushed her back against the pillows without the slightest effort. “Yeah, that's not happening...,” he sighed, having anticipated her reaction. She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off before she could get a word out. “The Wrath and the Pureblood are handling it. Don't make me tie you down. _Drink_.”

Narrowing her eyes at him over the mouth of the cup, she gulped down the rest like she'd been lost in the desert for months. She watched him watch her drink, her heart giving a little twinge as she took in his condition. He looked haggard. The skin around his eyes had grown tight from lack of sleep and he sported about two days worth of stubble across his cheeks and chin, which was so unlike him. Despite the scars he carried, as well as the rather obvious lack of a left eye, Nik was always meticulous with the way he kept himself groomed.

“My lord, other than a couple bruised ribs, a lot of bumps and scratches, and a minor concussion, you were otherwise left unharmed from the blast,” Talos explained, holding down the catheter with the fingers of one hand, gently peeling the tape from her skin with the other.

Andronikos made a sort of breathy grumbling sound, stroking a hand lightly to her forehead. “You mean she was fucking lucky.”

“But you said I was out for two days. That doesn't make any sense.”

Talos glanced at her face, breathing an apology as he pulled the catheter from her vein and taped down a gauze pad to soak up any blood. “Yes, the injury knocked you out cold for only a short while. The major issue here was exhaustion coupled with severe dehydration,” he continued, holding up the tubing and empty bag of fluids with a quirk of his brows in explanation. “Excuse me, I'll be back with your food.”

Her stomach decided to make its presence known at the thought of food, and she watched after Talos as he closed the door behind himself, hoping he wouldn't be gone long. She wasn't sure how she'd be able to eat with her jaw being as sore as it was, but she'd figure it out.

Her attention was diverted when she saw Nik grab a jar of kolto salve from the table. “You've got to slow down. You've been working yourself too hard.” He opened the jar, his one good eye lost in thought. Something was bothering him, and it wasn't the obvious. Holding the jar up in front of her, he placed a hand on the bed beside her in question. She smiled her best smile and winced, shimmying herself to the side in order to give him room to stretch out next to her, propped up on one elbow.

Just as he was getting settled, his holocommunicator beeped, actually _her_ holocommunicator beeped. Grumbling a few choice expletives, he reached down and grabbed it from his pocket and handed it to her, surprisingly giving her the choice on if she wanted to answer it. Of course she did. Nik started to get up to give her privacy, but laid back down at the sound of her mewling complaint. When she accepted the call, they both saw Darth Marr's armored image appear.

“ _Nox. It is good to see you up and about. I was informed of your situation and will grudgingly admit that I shared the same anxiety over your recovery as the rest of your counterparts. You've looked better, my friend.”_

“Thank you, I think.”

“ _I wanted to take a moment to debrief you myself on the failed mission to recover the Isotope-5 from the Hutt stronghold. The Lord Wrath has shared with me that the only way for us to get at the resource now is to mine it ourselves.”_

“Which, of course, is not possible when the planet only has a couple weeks left,” she sighed. She'd already put that much together before they were overrun at the stronghold. “Is there no way we can extract as much as possible before we must evacuate?”

“ _Not enough to make a difference.”_

“Well, then I suppose the next question is if there is some way we can save the planet, or at least delay its destruction to buy us more time.”

“ _Precisely. While you have been out of commission, the Wrath and Lord Cytharat have been exploring our options, and they believe they have landed on a solid plan that might possibly stabilize the planet's core, using the very equipment the Hutts are leaving behind.”_

“My lord, Too-Vee sent this with his regards and hopes of your swift recovery.” The older Sith Lord's image lost focus as her attention was diverted to the door. Talos had returned, bearing a thermos and a couple more pillows. “Oh, I apologize, my lord!” Stopped in his tracks, his eyes had fallen to the holo image of Darth Marr.

“ _Please, do not let me interrupt in your recovery. We will speak again, Nox. Farewell.”_

As Marr's image disappeared, Talos handed off the thermos and pillows to the pirate and bowed back out of the room, making apologies that he was in the process of going over simulations with the science crew. “Things are looking good!” he called over his shoulder, locking the door behind him. She wasn't sure if he meant with her in that room, or with the planetary issue as a whole, or both.

Nik unscrewed the top from the thermos and scrunched up his nose in curiosity, taking a sniff in an attempt to identify the contents. “Smells like gorak-noodle soup.” He poured some into the provided cup. “Looks like gorak-noodle soup. No guarantee it will taste like it though,” he laughed, handing it to her.

“He does try though, doesn't he?” Nox smiled slightly, bringing the cup to her lips, letting the hot liquid slide down her throat. It did taste like – something – with noodles. Whatever it was, it didn't pass as gorak, but it was hot and it would fill her grumbling stomach. Too-Vee really did try. The droid had enough sense of mind to know that she wouldn't be able to chew, and also knew how much she cared for Alderaan, where gorak was a native species.

While she ate (drank) her meal, Andronikos again reached for the jar of kolto salve and pulled back her blanket, exposing her naked legs. “Remember those speeders we rented on Alderaan, where yours broke down right next to that lake?” He gingerly ran his fingers over each leg, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. Talos had been holding back – her skin was a canvas of bruises of varying age and severity, some even going back to Yavin Four at the lighter end of the spectrum. And scattered amongst the sickly rainbow of colors, was a number of scrapes and scratches, thankfully all minor.

“Lerantha La-ah!” Her words were bitten off around a hiss as he began rubbing the gel into the skin. There were so many bruises interspersed with scratches that he didn't discriminate and just covered everything. Even though the actual severity of the injuries was not extreme, the kolto would help speed up the healing process, and hopefully prevent any scarring where the skin was broken. It would also help take the edge off the pain.

“That's right,” he continued, working his way up from her ankles to her thighs. “You were so pissed...I just thought it was hilarious.”

Finishing her first cup of soup, she reached down to where the thermos sat propped up against Nik's shoulder and helped herself to more. “We had time constraints...”

“You always have time constraints. We'd agreed on a day off, hence being on Alderaan for the fun of it... Can you lean back a little?” When she complied, he lifted her shirt and began working his way up her torso. “Kriffing shit, you're one giant bruise.” They both always sported a healthy assortment of bruises at any given time, sometimes even inflicted by each other if the mood took them right...in the bedroom, or the bathroom, or in an alley, or by the side of a lake out in the middle of nowhere, but this was a whole new level. She couldn't help watching his expression darken as he worked. He was trying to hide it, but he was really bothered by what had happened. Did he think he was partly at fault, that if he hadn't let her run herself into the ground, she wouldn't have been in the path of that grenade? That wasn't anybody's fault but her own.

“Shot. Bruised. Battered. Thrown. Crashed. Stabbed. Shocked. Burned. It comes with the territory. We both know that.” Finished with what she could of the soup, she frowned at it as if it had offended her, and poured the remainder back into the thermos, left to be forgotten on the table by the side of the bed. She'd lost her appetite, even though she knew she should have finished the whole bloody thing. Arguing with Nik was always an exercise in futility, but she'd still try. She took his chin in her hand, passing the thumb over his lower lip in an attempt to assuage even some of the weight he'd put on his shoulders. “ _They'll heal_ ,” she insisted.

“Doesn't mean it shouldn't fuck me up seeing you like this. You've never been this black and blue before.”

She closed her eyes, reclining back against the pillows, letting him pull the shirt up and off in order to get to her shoulders. “Hmmm, keep talking,” she said to the air between them. Having the pressure of his hands applied to each bruise hurt, but the soothing coolness of the gel helped, and in the process, it felt like he was working the full-of-sand feeling out of her extremities.

“Think you can turn over onto your stomach?” He gave her a moment, and with enough hisses and whimpers, she was able to finally scootch-slide-roll herself onto her stomach, stretching her arms out in front of her with the pillow folded up under her chin. Just as before, he started at the bottom, working his way up over her calves and the backs of her thighs. “You remember what we did while we were marooned out there in the boonies?”

“You mean when we were marooned because the self-proclaimed best pilot in the galaxy couldn't repair a simple speeder?”

She felt one of his hands take an admonishing squeeze at her relatively bruise-free backside. “Hey, does it look like a tool box fits in this getup?” he chuckled. “Besides, it needed a whole new ignition system, like I could pull one of those out of my ass.”

“Well, it worked out in the end. It pushed us to finally buy that fancy pair of speeders you'd been eyeing.”

She heard him make a soft grumbling sound in response, agreeing with her statement. “You think we could go back after this is over?” he asked, his hands pausing on the middle of her back, thumbs grazing over her spine. “Visit that lake again? Maybe...break down on purpose this time.”

“Absolutely.” Letting out a long exhalation of breath, she was just starting to let his hands carry her into a blissful vegetable-like state when she realized that she still didn't know what the plan was for their current planetary dilemma. She should have just let Kira handle it, as Nik had said, but she couldn't. He knew it wasn't in her nature to let something like that go, even if it was at her own peril. Feeling her tense, the hands at her shoulders paused.

 _“What...”_  His statement was made wish such annoyed level of flatness, she was sure she could almost see the eye roll he threw at her back.

“You never told me what is going on out there,” she muffled, stating the obvious into the side of her arm as she pointed towards the door with a toe. 

“Nope, I sure didn't.”

“Then that's where I need to be.” She started to push herself up onto her hands and knees, doing her best to hide her body's protestations.

“Oh no you don't. You're staying right here,” he ordered, pushing her right back down with the flat of his hand at her back. “You're about as helpless as a tooka-kitten right now. You need to rest.”

“I'll rest when we can get off this sinking ship.” She tried to get up again, rather pathetically failing to win that particular fight.

“Well you're not going anywhere right now. Talos gave you enough of the good stuff to knock out a rampaging uxibeast. Turns out Force users need quite a bit more than the 'normal people' dose.” That certainly explained why each of her limbs operated as if she'd consumed her own weight in alcohol.

“Can you at least tell me what the next step is?” She lifted her head to look at him, doing her best to put on an over-the-top pout, complete with rather drunken eye batting.

He grumbled, his mind considering her indulgence. “Fine,” he relented, laying at her side again, hand resting on her lower back. “In the morning we're going after a bunch of engineers to operate the drills we need. More mercs to kill.” He paused, hesitating on the last bit. “And this time the Republic is involved.”

She froze, her body going rigid. The Republic. What if... “Then I'm going with you.” She forced herself to turn back over and sit up, gritting her teeth against the resulting aches, angry at the drunken feeling pushed upon her by the drugs. Locking her gaze to his, she saw his lips fall into a most-defined frown. “I'm _going_ with you, Nik. Kira will kill them all. You know I'm right.” What if he was here? The truce was over. What if they fired on the Imperial contingent, or the Imperial contingent fired on them? Her mind was automatically jumping to the worst-case scenario. It was a relatively recent worst fear – the fear of Theron, or Nik for that matter, getting hurt, especially when she could have prevented it. No, there was no way she was going to be kept out of this one.

“You've never cared about killing Republic grunts before...” He let out a long sigh, his expression melting into one of pain. “You know he's not here. _Theron_ , he's SIS, right? Well, these are just the usual fodder.”

“That's not what I...” Her brows shot up, her mind having processed what he'd just said. “Wait, how did you...”

“You've been talking in your sleep lately.”

She felt like she'd just been punched in the gut – again. She had no idea what to say, how to respond. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. She was paralyzed with fear – the fear of losing Nik too now, especially since she'd finally come to terms with the knowledge that she'd been in love with him all along. She'd just been too ignorant-stupid-closed-off-fucked-up to realize it. If only she could get into his head to get a gauge of what he was thinking, what he was feeling. She could feel the Force, but the drugs made it so it felt like she was trying to grip at something through a slippery silk curtain. Ugh, she wouldn't want to invade his privacy like that anyways. “Nik, I'm-”

“Don't. You can't control what goes on in your head when you're out like a light any more than I can.” He shimmied closer to her, pulling her back down and burying his head in the side of her neck. “Besides, I hear my name quite a bit too,” he said, failing to add any semblance of levity to what was quickly turning into an extremely painful and awkward conversation. “Can we...talk about this? I know this – he – is on your mind, and I know this is the reason why you're running yourself ragged. You were lucky this time. Next time you might not be so lucky.”

Staring blankly at the ceiling, she was dumbstruck. “I...I...don't..kn- Are you sure?” She couldn't even form a complete sentence.

He pulled at her shoulder, urging her to roll from her back onto her side facing him. “Any time we ever try to talk about serious shit, we just end up screaming at each other and one of us ends up thrown against the wall, and then clothes start to come off. Right now, you're a captive audience. So, yes, can we please try to talk about this?” The nervous tone to his voice sent a jab of pain straight to her racing heart. “Believe me, this is hard for me too. Selfish asshole, remember?” he chuckled, pointing a thumb back at himself, his uncertainty plain as day.

She swallowed, despite the fact that her mouth had gone quite dry, trying to form even a half-coherent thought. “What happened...it doesn't diminish how I feel about you.” She paused, doing her best to look him in the eye and failing. “At all.”

“I think I know that, now.” He brushed his fingertips over the scars on her cheek, the side that happened to not be covered in bruises. “But _what_ _happened_?” he asked, propping himself up on one elbow to lean over her. “Besides the obvious.” She couldn't believe he was staying so calm. The only conclusion she could come to was that he must have been looking for an opportunity to bring this up for a while now. How could he expect her to talk about this?

“I don't know what you want me to say,” she pleaded, her voice wavering on the verge of cracking. It was growing difficult to make her tongue do what she wanted. She lay there for a few moments, focusing her gaze on the hollow of his throat because she couldn't bring herself to look any higher. And then, without warning, the words came...in a torrent. “How am I supposed to tell you that I have this hole in my heart? That sometimes I feel alright, but other times I feel like I can't breathe and it just hurts all-the-time? And you know the craziest thing? Through all this, it's made me realize that what I felt for you all along was...” Her heart had started to beat uncontrollably, running as ragged as her mind. “Stars, why do I have to be so fucking broken?” she squeaked.

Finally breaking down, she hid her face in the crook of his arm. She was exhausted, emotionally and physically. From pushing him away to walking out of Theron's life to having to appear strong at-all-times, to feeling like she had the weight of the entire galaxy resting on her shoulders, she was done. She couldn't take it anymore. It was hard to breathe, and when she was finally able to take in a gulp of air, it came in the form of a half-choked sob. Tears began to fall freely from her eyes, and her nose began to run in a very unladylike manner to mix with the moisture that was gathering on his shirt. It was a new experience for her, this 'crying' thing, and once it started, it seemed that she couldn't turn it off.

Cradling her head with one hand, Andronikos pulled her tightly to him with the other. She didn't care that it hurt. Anything was better than what she was feeling right at that moment – utter despair. “I didn't mean to push you to this...but I think you needed to let it out.” His words were spoken softly, but his baritone rumbles still vibrated against her ear, bringing her a small amount of comfort. He started to massage at the back of her neck, letting her cry it out unhindered. “I'm not going anywhere...”

“I'm scared constantly,” she hiccoughed around another sob. “Scared for you. Scared for me. Scared for someone I'm never going to see again. I'm scared that being constantly scared is going to make me weak...”

He pulled her head away from his shoulder so that he could look at her face, which consequently, prompted her to try and get away in order to hide herself again. Like a frighted child. She was thoroughly embarrassed...ashamed of herself for losing her shite, and even angrier at herself for allowing these emotions to get the better of her. What kind of leader of the Empire could she ever hope to be, blubbering around like a spineless fool over... _love_?

Love was a weapon. Love was weakness. And she had to be strong. 

But he fought her for it, as he always did, and he held her there in his grip, forcing her to acknowledge him. “ _Weak_? It's physically impossible for you to be weak. You've been to hell and back...more than once. You died-You lost your mind-You were betrayed. And you're still here. You've fought for every single thing you have, tooth and nail. You could never be weak...” He tightened his grip and she finally met his gaze. “You're the strongest person I've ever met.”

“You don't know anything about me. You've never wanted to know...”

“Now you're just being silly,” he half-laughed, resting his forehead against hers. It was a low blow, and she regretted it just as soon as the words had fallen out of her mouth. 

“You gotta give me a little credit here, babe.” Hearing him use a pet name other than the rather generic 'Sith' he always used, she managed to squeak out a snuffling half-giggle-half-hiccough. “I know more than you think I know. Let's see...I know you don't know anything about your parents or how old you really are. I know you grew up in Kaas City. I know you think of Marr like a father, and judging how that spiky mass of walking armor acts, I gather he thinks of you as a daughter. He's been like a fussy mother hen these past two days.” He hugged her tightly again, caressing his stubbled chin down her scarred cheek, his voice darkening. “I know you've been subjected to some of the worst things one person could ever even conceive to do to another, and yet here you are, a Dark Lord of the Sith, probably one of the most powerful women in the galaxy. I'll say it again. You. Could. Never. Be. Weak."

“But you've never asked-”

“Your name?” At her snurfly nod, he rolled his eye slightly, shaking his head as if she should have already known the answer to that question. “Yeah, I am aware that you obviously had a name before you became Sith. Let me guess... _he_ wanted to know, didn't he? Ugh, of course he did...now it's got you wondering why, after all the years we've been knocking pelvises, I haven't. Hang on a sec.” He released her, getting up from the bed to help return her to a sitting position and pull his borrowed shirt back over her shoulders. He poured another cup of water, taking a sip for himself and then held it out to her, tilting his chin in order once again before climbing back into the bed with her.

“Don't take my lack of curiosity for lack of caring. There's stuff in my past I don't talk about. You've got more reason than anyone to not want to talk about yours. Talking about your name raises questions, like where did you get it, if you didn't know your parents? That's stuff I'm not going to pry into because that's your business. The way I see it is, you were 'Kallig' when we met. You're 'Nox' now. Your name could be 'Darth Underwear' tomorrow-”

She'd been in the middle of a gulp of water when he said it, and she couldn't help the snorting snuffle that escaped her nose at that particular concept. In reality, some of the names she'd heard Sith take wouldn't have been that far off.

“I'm trying to be serious here.”

Finishing the third cup, she started to feel a familiar twinge in her belly. All of the liquid he had pushed down her throat had finally caught up, which was a good thing. She handed the cup back to him, her eyes drifting to the door on the wall behind his shoulder.

He followed her gaze, nodding in understanding and got back up. “As I was saying, your name could be different tomorrow,” he grunted, hoisting her into the air as he scooped her up into his arms. “It wouldn't change who you are to me. Or how I feel about you.” She could feel his stubble rubbing on her forehead, his breaths tumbling down her face as he carried her the short distance to the refresher. “If you want to tell me, you go right ahead and tell me, but don't think for a second that it's something I need to know,” he added, gently depositing her on the seat. He knelt beside her, bringing his face level with hers and ran an index finger down the bridge of her nose. “I already know _you_.” He stood up and turned towards the door. “I'll be right outside...don't freak out when you look in the mirror, like I know you will. And we're not done with our conversation.”

Left lone, sort of, she was able to allow her mind a moment to try and catch up and process what had just transpired. She'd broken down, completely, left herself vulnerable...something she'd always been told would spell certain death for a Sith. But, Nik was there. No judgments. No deceptions. He let her turn to him when she needed it, encouraged it even. She felt like she didn't deserve it after how she'd treated him. She'd taken him for granted for far too long.

And what was going on with him being so calm about everything? He wanted to talk about Theron? She didn't think she had anybody she could really talk to about what she was going through, nobody that wouldn't just tell her to Be Sith about it and move on. But now, her lover, no she supposed she might as well go ahead and say it, her significant other, wanted to talk about it? They'd never been able to talk about anything even remotely serious for any length of time before getting into a fight or turning to sex or both. Well, he had said she was a captive audience...and sex was the furthest thing from either of their minds in her current state.

Once she was finished, she was able to find out just how wobbly the drugs had made her on her feet, which pretty much meant that she couldn't really even stand without supporting herself against a wall. It wasn't as if the drugs helped with the pain at all, so what exactly was the point? Ah, captive audience. Whatever they gave her prevented her from grasping at the Force, and kept her weak enough to easily control. A twinge of panic popped up and was almost instantly squashed. No, she was safe. Nik was only trying to protect her. He knew that if she could, she would have been out there, continuing to push herself.

She'd conveniently forgotten just how well he knew her, further proof of the whole 'taking for granted' thing. 

She padded-slid-shuffled her way to the sink and leaned her weight against the cool metal, completely unprepared for what she saw when her eyes rose to the mirror. Nik was not kidding. The right side of her face was relatively untouched, but the left, where she'd taken the full brunt of an armored fist to the jaw, was an explosion of deep blues, purples, and putrid green. Wincing at her own reflection, she gingerly ran her tongue against the insides of her teeth, consciously checking to make sure they were all still there. Well, at least there was that.

She examined the damage closer, from the broken blood vessel in the corner of her left eye, to the series of shallow gashes running parallel across the apple of her cheek, likely from the sharp edges of the bastard's armor. And then there was the damage that must have come after. She assumed that Nik or Talos, probably Nik, had already cleaned her up because she didn't see any smudges of soot or dirt, and her hair was clean and brushed, but the ends were all singed and burned. She'd have to cut it even shorter now. She let out a huff, deciding that she didn't need to see anymore. She rinsed her hands quickly, drying them against the borrowed shirt, and shimmied to the doorway.

When she peeked around the corner, she saw that Nik had his back to her. He was slowly pacing away, running both hands up over his scalp as he let out a long, defeated sigh. He stopped, dropping his hands to his hips and leaned slightly to one side, his overall posture sending an entirely different message from the strong confidence she'd seen only minutes before. It appeared he wasn't as calm as she'd initially thought. He was being strong, for the both of them. She watched him for a few moments, her lips quirking into a tight smile as she took in his wide shoulders, slumped as they were. Her eyes roved lower, down the line of his back to where his shirt was left uncharacteristically half-tucked into the waistline of his just-tight-enough sable-colored trousers. And even as she allowed herself a moment to appreciate the shape of his truly remarkable ass, her heart wrenched in her chest once again. 

She could do this. She could have this conversation, hopefully without mortifying herself again with the uncontrollable waterworks, and she – would – make it to the stupid fucking bed. Summoning all of her resolve, she pushed herself away from the wall, teetering in an effort to maintain her balance, her eyes focused entirely on her goal.

“I told you that's not happening! Why can't you ev-...” Nik had turned, finding her wobbling around barely a few feet away from the wall and rushed over, catching her just before she pitched forward onto her face. “Rampaging uxibeast, remember?” He bent down, scooping her up again and brought her back to the bed, settling her more onto the far side so he could climb on after her. With more room, he was able to lay on his back, inviting her to curl up on her side and snuggle into the crook of his arm.

“How long is this going to last?”

“As long as it needs to in order to keep you here so you can rest.” With her unbruised cheek resting against his chest, he stretched his arm out and wrapped it around her shoulder, pulling her to him.

“Can you promise me something?” She heard a soft rumble at her question, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. “Please don't ever do that to me again. This feeling of helplessness. Knowing the Force is there, but not being able to touch it. It's almost unbearable.” She'd already determined that she wasn't going to let herself be upset over his rather brazen attempt to make her stay put, but she most certainly never wanted to feel this way again.

The arm at her shoulder squeezed tighter, before running gently down to her hip. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much as before. “I'll make you a deal. I'll promise not to resort to such drastic measures if...” The hand at her hip squeezed slightly. “IF...you realize you've got an equal partner here. I'm not some dupe Imperial who serves you...I'm here of my own free will and I _want_ to be here. I'm not going to just stand by and let you do stupid shit just because you think you can. You're Sith, but you're still mortal. Deal?”

“Deal.” She lifted her heavy hand, threading her fingers with the ones at her side.

As she closed her eyes, listening to the steady heartbeat she knew all too well, she felt him take in a long breath and hold it. The soft rhythmic thudding started to pick up slightly, betraying his nerves, and the only thing she could hope to do was to mentally brace herself for whatever was to come next. She wanted to run screaming from the room, but she couldn't. She had to face this, it was more than time...she owed him that much. Perhaps she also owed it to herself.

“I still want to talk about what's been eating you. I know we respect each other's privacy, and that's one of the things I love about you, but this is about us just as much as it is about you. I hope we've already established that I'm not gonna hold this against you. We can't change what's already happened, but we need to figure out where to go from here, because you can't keep on like this, and I refuse to watch you walk right off a cliff.”

Nox still couldn't believe they were talking about this, and how...rational he was being. She'd forgotten that he hadn't always been a pirate, that once upon a time he had been an officer in the Republic Navy, that he had to know how to stay calm under pressure, and how to negotiate. This was a side of him that she'd never seen before. Or maybe she had, and she'd just ignored it...or taken it for granted like everything else. She was glad that her damaged jaw prevented her from turning her head to face him, saving her from the gut-punch she was sure to find if she were to see his face. She wasn't sure she could handle it. It was rather miraculous to see how the roles seemed to have been reversed, as if they were in a parallel universe. He really was an equal partner, capable of so much more than she gave him credit for.

“So again... _what happened?_ ”

She took a deep breath, releasing his hand at her hip, and moved her own to rest on his stomach, her fingers clumsily fiddling with the buttons of his shirt in a rather futile attempt at delaying the inevitable. She just had to get this out. She had to. For his sake. For her sake. For her sanity's sake.

“Alright...,” she sighed, taking another gulp of air. “He...wanted to come with me. He told me he was willing to leave it all behind, turn his back on his people.” Nik huffed at the admission, obviously noticing the mountain of irony, though he'd already left his past behind long before they'd met. “He wasn't thinking clearly...It was a rash decision on his part. I told him as much, told him to stay with his own people.” Her resolve was starting to fail, and her voice was faltering more and more with each word. “It...broke my heart, seeing the look on his face when I pushed him away..." Her throat had suddenly closed up on her, and the last bit came out as a pathetic little squeak.

Damn it all. Bloody hell. There were an infinite number of obscenities that came to mind, however, out of the virtual sea of artful curses, two simplistic words rose to the forefront. Oh. No.

Fighting against the pressure that had started to build once again behind her eyes, an image flashed unbidden into her head, an image of Nik with the same look on his face when she'd done the exact same thing to to him, only she hadn't done it to him just once...she'd done it every time he'd tried to ask her about what was going on. How could she have been such a fool? Her shoulders jerked and she tried to pull away like a frightened prey animal, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks in force. “Oh, my...I...I'm so...Nik, I had-”

She was in a fight-or-flight panic, and Nik grabbed her by the upper arms, reacting in the only way he could, which was to roll them both, putting her onto her back with him half on top of her struggling form, essentially pinning her to the bed. He crushed his lips to hers, forcing her mouth open with his tongue in a kiss that translated all of his anger and frustration, something that was much easier for him to do than to find the actual words. He'd lost all sense of gentleness. Harried growls were met with soft whimpers, and the pressure from his grip cut through any relief the kolto had given to the flesh of her arms. Her jaw was on fire from the movement of his mouth over hers, but the pain helped to knock her back to her senses. She couldn't fault him. She could never do that. 

“Why didn't you just talk to me?” he half-pleaded against her mouth, taking her lower lip between his teeth to worry at the plump flesh before kissing her with renewed fervor. She whimpered again, shifting beneath him to help redistribute some of the less-than-comfortable weight he'd laid upon her. Literally and figuratively. The sound of her plaintive mewl woke him up, as if out of a daze, and he stopped himself, resting his forehead against hers as he caught his breath. The pain on his face was clear as day...he was having trouble, but he took another deep swallow, winding himself up to get out what he needed to. “I'm not stupid, I know you better than you know yourself most of the time. I could tell you cared about him more than you were letting on. Maybe you didn't even realize it...but I did.” He opened his eye, and she watched it focus on her, felt his fingers brush at the burnt hair at her temple. “Why do you think I was so persistent about it?”

“I- I...have no excuse,” she replied, tilting her chin to the side to gain some distance between their faces. He took the hint and settled back down next to her, though his upper body still leaned over her. “I could spout out some Sith nonsense at you, but that was only a small part.”

His expression hardened, and he glanced away quickly. “Because I know who would have fed you that bullshit,” he spat. “You're Sith, but...you're different.” His free hand reached down to find hers and gripped it tightly. “Why the hell do you think I stuck around, why I'm _still_ sticking around? You don't know how I would have reacted because you didn't talk to me.”

She tried to pull her hand away, but he tightened his grip, keeping it firmly in place. “But you were being so-”

“Territorial? Hell yeah, I felt threatened... _because-you-wouldn't-talk-to-me_.” She turned her hand over underneath his, allowing him to twine their fingers together. “I thought I was going to get pushed clean out of the picture..."

“Never...” She threaded their fingers tighter, caressing the side of her head to his. Now that she realized the depth of her feelings for him, there was no way she'd give him up willingly. She only hoped she could avoid making the same mistakes again.

After a few minutes, she felt him smile against her scarred cheek, his lips moving to brush at her ear. “I've seen you fuck other guys before,” he teased, the breath of his grumbling whisper almost instantly prickling her skin into a serious amount of gooseflesh. “And if you remember correctly, I got off on it. A lot.” Oh good grief, she was tranqued and in pain here and his gravelly voice still managed to hit her right where it counts. “You know I like to watch. I know you like to watch..." The tip of his nose ran up the side of her neck, and she felt the slight touch of teeth nibbling playfully at her earlobe. “Seriously, remember three days ago?” He backed off, leaning his head back against his supporting hand. “Our _sexcapades_ are nothing new,” he chuckled. “A day in our life together is like a trip to a theme park. But when that day's over...it's you and me...”

She wasn't sure if Nik quite understood. If she'd allowed Theron to do as he'd wanted, she would have quickly thrown them all into a very awkward and potentially blaster-riddled situation that likely would have blown up in her face, no pun intended. She'd been utterly and completely selfish, and she was damned lucky she'd done the right thing with pushing Theron away, because she very well could have ended up losing them both if things had gone otherwise.

Seeing her frown at the ceiling, Nik spoke up again, able to sense exactly what she was thinking. “We _are_ allowed to make up our own rules as we go, you know. If you had come to me, I probably would have yelled for a minute, shot at something – not you, of course – yelled some more, fucked you up against a wall and then grudgingly told you to let me meet him. And if I didn't absolutely hate him, the Republic schmuck that he is, who the hell knows. It certainly would have saved us this giant clusterfuck,” he explained, gesturing to the air in general.

“I don't understand how you can be so...” She shrugged her shoulders, completely at a loss for words “...about all this.”

“Okay, come here,” he sighed, rolling more onto his side so he could pull her closer against his chest. “You weren't here. Well, you were...you know what I mean.” Huffing through his nose, he shifted, brushing his lips to her temple. “I thought I'd lost you. Your body is more black and blue than white. It made me realize just how fucking much I love you. I'm not willing to give you up – you'd have to throw me out an airlock to get rid of me...and if that means we have to change the rules a bit along the way, then come hell or high water, we'll figure it out...together. Okay?” He squeezed both of his arms around her, waiting for her nod of assent. “Just, talk to me next time, huh?”

She finally felt like she could see some light at the end of the tunnel, like a giant weight had been lifted off her shoulders. If only she'd been less of an idiot and relied more on the people around her that mattered. And she most definitely had to stop listening to Kira's 'Sithy' relationship advice. She was grateful that the Twi'lek's teachings had kept her alive on Korriban, but she'd relied on them too much with certain aspects of her life, and they just didn't work for her when it came to her relationship with Nik. Thankfully, she'd realized that before it was too late.

Suppressing a yawn, she shifted one last time, shimmying herself to flip over and face him, nose to nose. “Nik?”

“Hmm?”

“My name...it's Lelu.” Avoiding her sore jaw, he ran his hand up over her shoulder to the side of her neck, gently stroking his thumb over the soft skin. He tilted his chin forward, reaching his lips to hers in a much slower, more tender, lingering kiss. “There's one more thing..." He quirked his brows in question, waiting for her to respond.

“I love you...for as long as I can remember, I've loved you...and I always will..."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out as just a quick bridge to the next chapter...and then Nik decided he wanted to throw me for a loop.


	20. Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron is a little piggie wallowing in his own little personal pity puddle. And yes, he's being - that - guy.  
> Theron has a conversation with his father.  
> Theron learns some stuff.  
> Theron is not happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Lover"  
> Alter Bridge
> 
> If you deny the wounds of your lover you will discover  
> That what you had is shattered and wasted  
> Did you have to take it so far?
> 
> The truth exposed to love is devoured  
> And the ivory tower is coming down  
> I felt betrayed and order is broken  
> The wounds are open and bleeding out
> 
> But it’s all I can do to carry on  
> It brings all I fear to life
> 
> If you deny the wounds of your lover you will discover  
> That what you had is shattered and wasted  
> Did you have to take it so far?
> 
> Should you have to throw it all away?  
> Did you have to shove it in my face?  
> Did you have to tear my world apart?  
> Did you have to take so selfishly?  
> No matter how you hurt the ones you need?  
> Did you have to fall so very far?
> 
> The trigger’s warm, the chamber is loaded  
> Lost in the moment. What went wrong?  
> There’s nothing left this house has been broken  
> But still I’m holding, I’m holding on

Coruscant, Theron's Apartment - Theron

All that mattered to Theron at the moment was feeling...anything besides the almost constant tightness he'd felt in his chest since arriving back on Coruscant after leaving Yavin Four almost three weeks ago. He didn't really care how or with whom, he just knew that he wanted to, no, _had_ to stop thinking about a specific Sith, and what she'd done to him. Throwing himself at his work didn't help, because at work, he found that all of his energy went into trying to track her down to see what she was up to, always coming up dry. Whatever it was, the SIS didn't know about it. So, his diversions had turned to a more...carnal nature, which consequently, had so far also proven unsuccessful at getting him to think about anything else other than how much the metaphorical hole in his chest hurt. It still didn't stop him from trying, though.

On this particular evening, his diversion happened to be a Mirialan named Martie. Mattie? Matile? Something like that. He didn't really care. He did remember her mentioning that she was a twenty-one-year old political science student, and that she'd been out for a night on the town with her friends. She'd been ecstatic that he'd picked her to flirt with and she'd most likely be lording it over her friends for weeks. In truth, he probably could have brought all three of them back to his apartment, but he just wasn't up for dealing with the theatrics of three tipsy sorority sisters. Good grief that sounded so cliché. His standards were pretty out there at the moment.

Nox – Lelu – was out there somewhere. With someone who wasn't him. Just the thought of it was enough to make bile rise in the back of his throat, a sharp spike of anger causing him to slam his hips forward, taking his frustrations out on the body beneath him. The Mirialan had no idea where his mind had gone – she appeared to love it, if the irritatingly generic screeches and mewlings pouring out of her mouth were any indication. He wanted her to shut up, and pushing her face into the mattress only made her screech louder about how 'fucking hot' he was. Ugh. He snapped his hips forward again, making her fall forward onto her stomach, the fingers of one hand digging into the green flesh of her backside while the other supported himself over her, his teeth grazing at the space between her shoulder blades.

It was never difficult for Theron to find willing participants to spend the night with, some almost annoyingly willing. All it took, it seemed, was a smile and a few lines and he had them lining up, men and women alike. He knew he was attractive. Add to that his charmingly awkward facade, and it was like catnip. It was an asset he used to perfection in his line of work, a skill that had been fine-tuned over years spent in the field, and undercover. And up until Manaan, his life hadn't seemed so bad, and it still wasn't, on paper. Living on adrenaline and sex, no attachments...every bachelor's dream. Or was it? Now it just seemed hollow and...pointless.

“ _You're never going to meet anybody worth meeting if you just keep taking people home who will jump in the sack with you after three drinks.”_

Trant's advice kept rolling around in his head. He couldn't believe his boss had given him dating advice, or at least had tried to before Theron had turned around and walked right the fuck out the door. The advice was all well and good, but how was anybody supposed to compare to a Sith? Nox was just rough enough, just soft enough...the way she used her teeth, her tongue...that little thing she did with the Force...

If he were with her right at that moment, rather than a rebellious twenty-one-year old poly-sci student, he wouldn't have been afraid of letting himself get carried away, because for him, the best sex happened when you both still felt it the next day. Nothing major, a little bruise here or a twinge of soreness there, little reminders...they were always nice. In his current state of mind though, he'd have grabbed her by the neck and bit down right at the base of...ugh, he was getting close just thinking about it.

With Nox, he felt like he could be himself, whoever the hell that guy was...and that with everybody else he was just providing a general picture, or playing an expected role. People would probably think he was crazy for even having any sort of complaint. But after her, sex was like watching a holovid with no sound. You could still watch it, might even still enjoy it, but you were definitely missing a good chunk of the story. He wondered if it was because she was Sith, the whole 'forbidden' thing, or if it was because of how he felt about her and how she made him feel, or perhaps even a bit of both. Not to mention the pretty basic fact that the sex they'd had for that week on Yavin Four was so fucking mind blowing that nothing would ever be able to even compare.

He couldn't hear the Mirialan anymore – her cries pleading with him to 'fuck her' weren't anything he hadn't heard many times over before. She had no idea what she was really asking for, and he was absolutely not going to go there with her because he didn't know her from a can of paint. And so he continued with the many times practiced and perfected movements of one-night-stand-sex. That was his role for tonight. Her voice had finally been drowned out and replaced, with almost perfect clarity thanks to his photographic memory, with a different one...one that was delicately feminine, yet edged with ominous mystery, like a piece of silk slipping over a perfectly sharpened blade. The voice of a beautiful and deadly predator.

Lost in the picture-perfect memories of her teeth on his skin, her nails digging into his back, his arms, his scalp, everywhere...all of her throaty little purrs and mewls, the way she tightened herself around him and giggled, teasing him mercilessly because she knew that it drove him insane...the sound of his name on her lips as she fell away into oblivion around him...he couldn't take it anymore. He pitched his hips forward, the curve of his back arching sharply against the body shoved down into the mattress beneath him, and the muscles of his shoulders clenched to the point of snapping as he released a pained growl to the ceiling, too completely wrapped up in his own shuddering climax to even notice if the Mirialan had come with him.

For just a fleeting moment, he was still on Yavin Four in the midst of orgasmic bliss, and then suddenly he was back. He was in his dark, barely lived-in apartment on Coruscant, with a woman who's name he couldn't even remember. Again. Night after night it was the same thing. This was getting fucking pathetic.

He reached a hand between them and pulled himself out and away, falling onto the bed next to Maggie, Marley, whatever, and rolled over, catching his breath with her snuggled into the crook of his arm. He was so not into cuddling after sex with people he didn't know unless he had to for work, and he never really bothered to get to know anybody, again, unless it was for work. Theron was a serial dater, he preferred to sleep alone and be alone. At least, that was the way things used to be.

The Mirialan was giggling and tracing her fingertips over the muscles of his abdomen, a huge grin painted across her face that made her look like a contest-goer who'd just won a prize. Theron spent a moment studying the geometric designs tattooed across her cheeks, admitting to himself that she was, indeed, very pretty, all soft curves and piercing blue eyes, but she just came across as very...naive and...young. When the hell did he get old? He glanced down, watching her fingers dance up toward his chest, his breath catching when they came just a little too close to the bandage that was taped across the left side.

He grabbed them, diverting her in a way she most likely took as a gesture of affection. In reality, he just wanted her to stay away from the fresh ink he'd just had done only a few hours prior. “Careful, please don't touch. I just got some work done tonight,” he cautioned, cocking his head to the side towards his fully tattooed shoulder and left arm in explanation. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and then sat up, feeling her fingertips brush over his back as he got to his feet, sure he could feel her eyes boring into his backside as he made his way across the room to the 'fresher. He couldn't help wondering who was objectifying whom in this situation. He'd used her for sex, but she and her friends had made him feel like he was on display at a very hands-on meat market, or perhaps a petting zoo. He knew he should have probably been on an ego trip over it, but it just felt dirty.

Stumbling into the refresher, he pulled the used condom off and threw it haphazardly into the trash before stopping in front of the sink. He washed his hands and dried them, then reached up and gently peeled at the tape on his chest, thankful that the tattoo artist had shaved enough space around the piece this time so that no hair got stuck in the adhesive. Watching himself in the mirror, Theron pulled the bandage away and revealed the most difficult piece he'd had put onto his body thus far. Not the most painful, but the most difficult to deal with. It hurt to remember, but he wanted to, had to. His eyes took in the broad jungle leaves pounded by rain against the stony ruins, the forks of purple lightning dancing through angry storm clouds, all overlaid by a single double-bladed lightsaber sporting a black blade, sheathed in red. The blade lit up the droplets of rain around it and cleaved through the leaves and stone just as the one who wielded it had cloven through his heart. Fitting. Stars, it hurt.

But, regardless of the emotions it evoked, he had to admit that this was La'al's best work yet. She'd gotten the ornate hilt perfect, right down to the golden scroll work. The Nautolan tattoo artist had done all of his work so far, and by now she pretty much always knew what he was looking for. He'd provide the reference photos and she would draw up the idea, usually spot-on right out of the gate. And the best part about her? She didn't ask any questions.

Theron studied the piece in silence, his face melting from a frown into a scowl the longer he stood there. Eventually, the scowl twisted into a sharp stab of pained rage, and he lashed out, throwing his fist into the wall. That was...miraculously stupid. Thankfully, his fist had connected with the plaster, rather than the tile that ran across half of the wall, otherwise he would have come away with more than just a couple of split knuckles. The pain didn't matter, his implants had already kicked in and administered a dose of suppressant. If anything, he welcomed it.

“Everything alright in there?”

“Yeah, be out in a minute,” he called. After the initial question, his ears picked up a giggle from the other room and then some hushed whispers. Maudie was on a call with one of her friends, apparently unable to wait for the morning-after-girl-talk. Sigh. Well, at least that meant she wasn't poking around in his stuff like the last one. Not that it mattered. Anything of importance was locked away under several layers of encryption that only he could break, and he didn't keep any personally private belongings at that location aside from one, and that was almost always on him somewhere, safely hidden away.

He looked down at the knuckles of his right hand, again cursing his stupidity, and opened up the cabinet to grab some kolto gel. Eh, it wasn't that bad. “Hey, you know what? I'm gonna take a quick shower,” he announced, poking his head around the corner. She was lounging on his bed, still engrossed in her call. Whatever. She could keep herself busy and he'd only be a few minutes. He turned the water on, letting the heat seep into his outstretched palm before stepping into the stream. Leaning his forehead against the tile, he closed his eyes and released a ragged sigh, enjoying the soothing sensation of the scalding hot water as it bit into the back of his neck and ran down over the tightened muscles of his shoulders.

How was it possible to love someone so much and hate them all at the same time? He hated Nox for leading him on, for pushing him away. He hated her for using him and breaking his heart and for being the one thing in the galaxy he wanted and couldn't have. And most of all, he hated her for this downward shame spiral he appeared to be stuck in, for making him realize that his life pretty much sucked all around. Yeah totally, thanks for that. Wallowing in a deep puddle of self-pity was so fun.

He opened his eyes and lifted his fist to the stream of water, watching the blood wash away in red-stained rivulets down the back of his hand. He hated himself too – that was nothing new. He'd let his guard down and gotten his heart stomped on...again. He'd trusted someone only to be let down...again. It seemed that he was destined to be alone, because everybody he had ever loved had left him. Why should this have been any different? One would think he would have learned better by now.

And the one thing he _should_  have hated himself for, questioning his loyalty, he found that he didn't really give a womp rat's ass about. He would keep on with his life, going through the motions because that was what he was supposed to do. He was born in the Republic, that was who he would fight for. But he couldn't forget what she'd shown him. It had been a wake-up call, of sorts. That the only thing separating them in this war was geography. It wasn't a battle between good and evil, Light and Dark. It was a war over power, money, and greed...on all sides. Maybe that was the one good thing he'd taken away from his heartache, that his eyes were now open. But what good was it, if he couldn't do anything about it? He'd have been branded a traitor if anybody were to find out. It was bad enough that people treated him like a freak for banging a Sith, those who knew about it. And by that point, word had gotten around.

 _Alright, Shan, pull yourself together. You've got one hot green piece of work out there who wants nothing more than for you to screw her straight into next Primeday._ But as pleasing as that prospect sounded, he just couldn't bring himself to get excited about it, if the distinct lack of interest down below was any gauge. He banged his forehead lightly against the wall a few times in frustration, and then huffed, reaching for the bar of soap to wash up, making sure to be careful around the newly expanded margins of his body's artwork. 

By the time he stepped out of the shower, Theron's knuckles had stopped bleeding, but he still took the time to rub a dab of kolto gel into each split, to help speed up the healing process. Hopefully Marti wouldn't notice because he was not down for explaining the miraculous appearance of fresh cuts on his hands. He grabbed a towel and dried off, walking out of the 'fresher still in the process of tousling his hair dry.

No longer on her call, the Mirialan was instead watching him meander about in the buff, looking for his misplaced tube of tattoo goo. Theron was not modest by any means, that was part of the job description, and if a certain someone, someone with flaming red hair, were the one watching him as if she wanted to pounce on him like a vorn tiger took down a deer, he'd have been ready to go in no time flat.

Huh, well that particular image worked.

\---------------

Theron let out a strangled gasp, the sensation of teeth ever so slightly grazing up his length on a painful and most mercilessly slow return stroke skyrocketing him right to the precipice. Barely able to hold himself back, he'd been brought to a place that incited only the most carnal of needs...everything else fell away to be damned. There was only her...and those teeth. To have them _right there_...to give himself over to her in that way... 

He looked down, finding himself held captive in her smoldering gold-shot emerald gaze, her tongue swirling around and teasing him before she took him as deeply as she could. Nails raked down over his abs, hips, thighs, any place she could reach, leaving red marks in their wake wherever they passed. Just the sight of seeing her like that...the deliciously wet sounds her mouth made as her lips moved over and around him...the aching burn from her nails biting into his flesh...it was indescribable. And nearly every expletive he could think of came tumbling forth out of his mouth in what was likely a rather incoherent stream of babbling hisses and mewls, all bitten off into the air between them.

Quite pleased with herself, he was sure, she released a drawn-out, and rather self-satisfied moan, watching him lose himself even further to the sensations of her throat vibrating around him. He was so close. He wanted to let go, come inside her mouth, and she showed no signs of stopping, but...

His hands ran through long, ruby-red waves, gripping on either side of her head, wanting nothing more than to just force what she was already giving willingly. But he held himself back, from that at least. She took him deep again, her fingers squeezing at – everything – just the right way...

...and then he woke up.

FUCK.

Oh. Wait, there was someone down there alright. And his hands were entwined in someone's hair, but it was black hair, and the eyes looking up at him were blue. All said and done, it was a very nice way to wake up, and, truth be told, Maggie wasn't that bad with her mouth. Not at all. No teeth, that had all been in his head, replayed from memory at the most inopportune of times it seemed, but yeah...she wasn't bad. And he was...very close.

Right on the brink, he pulled the Mirialan off of him, her mouth making an audible popping sound when the suction around her lips was broken, and he tried his best to suppress the low growl that escaped his throat at the sudden absence of contact. She crawled up his torso, settling herself just above his hips, leaning over him to take two of his fingers into her mouth when he ran his hands up over her thighs, her hips, up her waist, and to her breasts. Fingertips digging into the plump roundness of her backside, he inclined his head, capturing her lips with his own, his tongue running over hers. He squeezed her ass harder, and as she moaned into his mouth, he willed her to do something, anything, with her teeth, but it seemed he was out of luck. So be it.

He reached over to the table beside the bed and grabbed a wrapped condom, bending his knees to push her forwards in order to allow him room to tear open the wrapper and roll the latex down over his length. Finished with the minor diversion, annoyance, he ran his hands up over her back and kissed her again, nibbling at her lower lip, listening with a self-satisfied grin to the sound of her mewling whimper when she finally lifted her hips and lowered herself down over him.

He let her set the pace this time, interested to see what she'd do...and just as she was getting her momentum, which really wasn't a bad momentum at all, she slid her hands down over his shoulders and grazed her nails right over the fresh tattoo on his chest. Theron hissed through his teeth, eyes snapping open. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand half-way. “I told you not to touch the tattoo,” he growled. “You can damage it.”

She pulled back and sat up, startled. “Sorry! I forgot,” she apologized. She bit down on her lower lip, looking rather lost. “What is it? That doesn't look like any lightsaber I've ever seen. Are you a Jedi and you didn't tell me?” She giggled sheepishly, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“That...is something we are not going to talk about.” The moment was over – he was totally done. He'd overreacted, but it was too late, he'd already lost interest. “It's okay,” he sighed, looking off to the side for a moment as he wondered how he could get out of this with as little drama as possible. “Look,” he started, hands gently running down her sides and nudging her off of him. “There's stuff I should probably be doing anyways.”

“Oh, um, okay.” Good grief, she was pouting. “Can we meet for dinner later?” Her eyes brightened, brows quirked in hopes of his positive response.

“I ah, have some appointments this afternoon.” He wasn't lying. He was supposed to meet his father in just over an hour for a late lunch. He sat up, pulling his pants on as he got to his feet and made for the 'fresher so she could have some relative privacy to get dressed. He wasn't without heart. He knew he was being an ass. He knew he was totally being – that – guy. He also knew she didn't mean anything by her question, and he really didn't care all that much that she'd scratched at the tattoo, because she hadn't scratched hard. But everything about that particular piece of ink, and everything it stood for, was just so raw and barely kept under the surface that even thinking about it ruined the moment for him. And then to make light of it with the Jedi question...it was just ignorance, but it still annoyed him. And seriously, how many lightsabers could she have actually seen in her sheltered little life? Whatever, she had to go. None of these _liaisons_ were anything more than one-nighters for him anyways.

Theron was happy to see that she'd gained back some of her composure when he came back out of the refresher. Placing a hand on her lower back, he wasted no time in herding her towards the door.

“When can I see you again?”

Oh, boy. “Yeah, let's just treat this for what it is...a good time, alright? I'm not that much of an asshole to lie to you and tell you I'm gonna call. I'm...probably not gonna call.”

“Well, if you change your mind...” Kissing him on the cheek, she pressed a piece of paper into his hand and turned, finally leaving him to close the door and breathe a sigh of relief at finding himself alone in his apartment.

He looked at the piece of paper, chuckling to the air when he saw the name scrawled across it. “How 'bout that...I was kinda close.”

 _Tillie._ How cute. Ugh, it was like he'd hooked up with the 'Anti-Nox', but he supposed that was entirely the point.

 

Coruscant, Thranta's Respite – Theron

Why his father wanted to meet at a fancy restaurant in the Senate District was beyond him, but Theron complied. He knew it had a bar, and that was all that mattered. He thought he'd be late for sure, scrambling to throw on something presentable right after pushing Tillie out the door, so he supposed it was a good thing then that she'd put a damper on the wake-up sex, because if she hadn't, he would have been really late. But, oddly enough, when he stepped through the doors of Thranta's Respite, almost on time, he found that his father hadn't arrived yet. That was alright, because a nice whiskey, neat, of course, would suit him just fine.

Theron made a bee line for the bar, grabbing one of the many empty stools, because let's face it, how many people went to the bar in the mid-afternoon on a Zhellday anyways? But someone did notice him. Sometimes he really did curse his good looks...well, not really. Half-way through nursing his tumbler of Corellian whiskey, a yellow-skinned Twi'lek sauntered up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. She reminded him of Teff'ith, which meant there was no chance whatsoever of him being interested _that_ way. Teff'ith was like a little sister to him, and that would just have been entirely too weird.

He figured he'd save the girl some time and politely removed her hand from his shoulder, murmuring his apologies. She'd moved on, but the half-drunk Republic soldiers further down the bar hadn't.

“What's the matter, Shan? Too busy missing that tame Sith of yours?”

Oh, that was just fucking great. _Just ignore them...just ignore them and they'll go away._ Theron flicked his gaze over quickly, finding the instigator still eyeing him for a response. The man slid off his stool and wandered over, flanked by his two silent companions. Ugh, they weren't going away. The only way the man could have known him is if he'd been on Yavin Four, and had been part of the rumors that had circulated around the camp.

"...or did she just bite it off?” The instigator was clearly pleased with himself for that one, and leaned back against the stool next to him, the other two circling behind.

Theron opened his mouth to say something smart, but thought better of it, and instead let out a patronizing chuckle, quirking his brows as he took another sip of his drink, refusing to even give the asshole the satisfaction of turning to look at him.

“No?” he questioned, downing the last of his drink in one swig and slamming the glass on the bar. “She really must have been one _sweet_ piece of ass then.” He nudged him roughly on the shoulder, his face so close that Theron had to wrinkle his nose against the man's ripe breath.

It was getting harder, but he was able to keep his gaze locked on the wall of bottles behind the bar. The idiot didn't know it, because he was too drunk to realize it, but in playing at ignoring them, Theron was actually watching their every move in the reflection of the bottles. He could see him turn to his counterparts and hold up his arms, making a feminine-shaped outline with his hands.

“You guys weren't there, you have _no_ idea. She had this perfect little-”

He didn't even see it coming. Theron grabbed the guy by the shoulder and spun him, punching him squarely on the jaw, sprawling him flat out on the floor in front of him. He was easily able to duck under the grabs of the other two soldiers, laying them out right beside the first. What he wasn't counting on, however, was for two other soldiers in shore leave dress to come running to their counterparts' defense and surprise him from behind. Shit, he was off his game, and he deserved the bloody nose they gave him for allowing them to get the drop on him. That was okay though, he had it handled. He was paying attention now. They held him against the bar while the others staggered to their feet. Theron waited, biding his time til they got just close enough. One came in for a swing, landing a solid crack to his jaw, splitting his lip in the process, but that was it. When the other two came at him, he used all of his upper body strength to kick both feet out against them, throwing them back onto the floor. Before the others could react, he spun in place, worming his arms out of their grip. He dropped down to the floor and swept the legs out from under one and popped back up to lay out the second, leaving the first one, the original instigator.

Running the back of his fist over his jaw, the man sneered at him, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. All Theron had to do was smile and the half-drunk idiot ran straight at him, giving him all the opportunity in the world to step aside, using his momentum to run his face right into the bar.

That was when the authorities showed up. He hadn't even gotten a chance to finish his drink.

 

Coruscant, 4th Precinct Holding Cells, Senate District – Theron

Theron was actually kind of proud of himself. Sure, three of them were half-drunk, but still, five on one. Not bad. And all he had to show for it was a split lower lip, a bloody nose, and one hell of a shiner on his right cheekbone.

“Do I even want to ask?”

Hearing his father's baritone question, Theron chuckled, sitting up from where he reclined on the narrow cot in his tiny square holding cell. “I wouldn't.”

“You laid out five of my men, for no reason.” The Supreme Commander was standing outside the shielded doorway, looking very awkward in his let's-get-to-know-my-son-twenty-nine-years-too-late getup. He just seemed so out of place in his casual denim slacks and very much out of style black leather jacket, like he'd stolen the entire outfit off of a retro swoop gangbanger. Good grief, the collar on the jacket even popped.

“They started it.”

“That's not what the 'tender droid's logs say,” Malcom huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes quickly scanning across his son's injuries.

Theron was not in the mood to deal with having to defend his actions - it seemed like that was all he'd been doing lately. He could picture it, he probably looked rather like a pouting child right at that moment, sitting there with his shoulders hunched, his jaw set in defiance as he glared at the wall across from him. Rather like a kid who'd gotten caught getting into fights at school. Hilarious. 

He guessed that his father must have also noticed the irony of the situation, because he laughed, albeit nervously, and turned to the obviously-not-a-local-law-enforcement-officer standing post across from the cell. “I think we can lose the ray shield now, Captain Jorgan. Thank you.”

“Yes, sir.” His falsely unassuming guard punched in a code on the keypad next to her, disengaging the shield of his cell, and moved off down the hallway to give them some privacy. Perhaps 'guard' wasn't the correct word to use for her. Even without the full tactical gear, he didn't need to look at the blazing insignia on her uniform to know who she was.

“Yeah, about that...” he started, eyes shifting from the wall to the man stepping through the doorway into his cell, “...any particular reason why you have a member of Havok Squad acting as my jailor?” Theron noticed that his father was carrying two datapads in the crook of his arm.

“Because I know who you are,” Malcom responded matter-of-factually. “And because I had to make certain...assurances in order to prevent those troopers from filing formal charges.”

That figured. So not only were they jealous little fucksticks, they were also pussies hiding behind the threat of a formal reprimand...over something they'd started. “And I would go where?” Theron quirked his brows, shrugging his shoulders in mock curiosity. “Last time I checked, I'm still a member of the SIS.”

“I think we can both safely say that you've been a bit...off as of late.” His father glanced down at the cot, unsure of his next move. After a few seconds, he finally sat down, perched at the edge as if waiting for his son to tell him he'd overstepped. But, Theron didn't and Malcom relaxed a bit. “And before you just shrug your shoulders and crack another joke, yes, I know what happened. And _no_ , your mother didn't tell me. It's not like it's a secret anymore.”

Ugh, great. Another inevitable conversation about his relationship with a Sith. He slid further away, down to the other end of the cot and leaned back, banging his shoulder blades up against the wall, his breath huffing out from the force of the impact. “Okay, so before we segue into an awkward father-son chat where you tell me how disappointed you are in me and how stupid I was being, let me save you some time.”

“I'm not saying anything. I'm hardly the one to throw stones at that glass house.”

“Um, okay. Unexpected, but I'll take it.” That was...surprising. Theron couldn't help wondering if there was a catch somewhere though.

Malcom shifted further back onto the cot, setting the datapads on his lap. “I guess we both have a taste for dangerous women,” he chuckled. “You just had to one-up me though.”

“Oh, well that's just...eww,” he scowled, throwing up his hands in surprised horror. “Can we please move on now and pretend you didn't just say that?”

“Sorry, I'm trying here,” his father apologized, his lips quirking into a sheepish grin. He started to fiddle with the datapads in his lap. He was building up for something. “So...anyways, what can you tell me about this Darth Nox?”

Theron crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes warily. “Don't even think I'm going to give you anything that will help hurt her.”

“That wasn't why I asked.” Malcom pulled out one of the datapads and held it up. “Your Sith is on Makeb as we speak. We don't know why the Empire is all of a sudden interested in the planet,” he added, tossing it down onto the cot between them. “Take a look at this.”

His father had gained Theron's complete interest. He sat forward and picked up the datapad, pushing the button at the bottom of the bezel to turn the screen on, revealing a message sent directly to the Supreme Commander from a trooper in the field.

> _To: Supreme Commander Jace Malcom_
> 
> _From: Captain Muntayne_
> 
> _Subject: Imperial Activity_
> 
> _Following the Pollus Avesta incident, we have an additional Imperial sighting on Makeb. Enemy forces intercepted caravan 47-B (“Whiteraft”) and kidnapped several civilian engineers with government ties. SIS is attempting to analyze why; working theory is that the resource-deficient Empire may want to begin deep core mining on its own homeworlds._
> 
> _I’m not convinced, but we don’t have anything better. On the bright side, there were no casualties. To be honest, that caravan probably would have gone down with all hands if the Imperials hadn’t swept through an attacking Regulator force._
> 
> _We owe them a few dozen lives. I won’t be spreading the word about that._

Theron sat there in stunned silence, reading and re-reading the message. _We owe them a few dozen lives._

“And?”

“How do you know it was her?” His heart did a little flip-flop. It had to be her. He had to know that he was right about her, that everything she appeared to be wasn't just a show. That he was right to have shoved it in his mother's face. He looked over, his knee bouncing in anticipation as he watched his father scroll through the report on his own datapad. 

“Let's see...” He swiped his finger across the screen, flipping to another page. “Ah. Sith. Female. Human. Saberstaff. Black blade,” he read, his lips frowning at the end. “Huh, never seen that one before.” He kept scrolling, his eyes moving back and forth over the soldier's report. “And, it goes on. Sith. Female. Twi'lek, huh? Unique skin color. White? Well, that's...interesting,” he finished, looking to his son for any more information.

“No images from their mission recorder?” Theron didn't bother correcting the soldier's assessment. Sometimes the red could be easy to miss from a distance, but he figured it wouldn't have mattered to his father anyways.

Malcom's holocommunicator beeped once, and he answered it on the first ring, turning on audio only.

“ _Sir, 'FR' pulled a match on that unknown. Sending the report now.”_

“Thank you, Captain. Oh, and 'Fira, tell your husband that he still owes me that bottle of brandy.”

“ _Yes, sir, but I believe he's been holding out, hoping you'd forget.”_

Ending the call, his father pulled up the newly incoming report. “Huh, well that's certainly unexpected.”

Theron shrugged his shoulders in an over-the-top gesture of feigned suspense.

“It's standard procedure to send anything like this through FaceRec to see if we can pull something,” his father explained, as if the SIS didn't do the very same thing all the time. His fingers flipped through a few more pages and then made a flicking gesture on the screen towards Theron, sending a copy of the report to the datapad in his hands.

> _Subject #1 – Identified as Target of Opportunity – Nox, Darth (Dark Council)_
> 
> _Subject #2 – ERROR, Multiple Matches Returned_
> 
> _Subject #3 – ERROR, No Matches in Database_
> 
> _Subject #4 – Identified as Republic Military Asset, See Attached Record_

Theron couldn't help himself and instantly touched his index finger to the 'Subject #1' line, bringing up a reference photo of Nox. It was from that last day on Yavin Four, right when she'd jumped out of the shuttle back at the then-defunct Coalition encampment after the fight with Revan. Her pulled-back hair was disheveled, and she had smudges of dirt across her cheeks and forehead. In the picture, she'd been facing the camera at an angle, her gaze looking off to the right, unaware of the recorded capture. The setting sun was just behind her over one shoulder, setting the loose pieces of her hair on fire. He could see that the emerald of her eyes was ringed by a thin line of gold, capturing her in a state of eternal excitement, or arousal...both worked. There _had_ been a lot going on that day, that was for sure. Theron sighed, tracing a finger over the outline of her face. She was so beautiful...and as he studied the image further, he noticed that she looked...scared. There was a panicked edge to her expression, almost imperceptible, and most would have missed it, but he didn't. No, not scared...terrified.

“Wow, Theron, she's uh...” His father had been sitting in silence, watching him study the picture. Even the Supreme Commander of the Republic Military couldn't deny it, though Theron figured that his was probably the sort of appreciation one felt when gazing at a majestic predator from the safety of a controlled setting, like a zoo.

Eyes flicking to the side, Theron quickly backed out of the picture, heading his father off before the conversation even started. “Nope, we are so _not_ doing that.”

“I was going to say that she's young,” he backpedaled, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, “...and...not what I expected for a Dark Lord.”

Theron couldn't help laughing at that one, because he'd thought the same thing when he'd first met her. “What, were you expecting some shriveled up, creepy old hag?”

“Kinda, yeah. So that's the new face of the Empire, huh?”

Theron had heard his father's rhetorical question, but he'd already moved on to the rest of the report, after having sent himself a copy of that picture of Nox, of course. He hit the 'Subject #4' line that had caught his eye next, and what pulled up was the last thing he'd expected, a Republic military service record.

> _Name – Thompson, Wyatt A aka “Silvershot”_
> 
> _Serial No – RN 12 345 678_
> 
> _Date of Entry – 03.12.07 BTC_
> 
> _Date of Birth – 31.10.25 BTC_
> 
> _Planet of Origin – Corellia_
> 
> _Previous Service -_
> 
> _Next of Kin – Father_
> 
> _Name – Thompson, Andrew C_
> 
> _Height – 6' 1”_
> 
> _Species – Human_
> 
> _Color of Skin – Dark_
> 
> _Color of Hair – Dark_
> 
> _Color of Eyes – Brown_
> 
> _Distinguishing Features – Tattoo, right wrist “D.B.D.”_
> 
> _Grade – Captain, Republic Starfighter Corps_
> 
> _Commission – Commanding Officer, Starfighter Squad #257 “Void Stalker”_
> 
> _Awards and Citations – See Notes_
> 
> _Status – Unknown, See Notes_
> 
> _Notes –_
> 
> _Bronze Crescent (added 07.30.04 BTC)_
> 
> _Mark of Dedication (added 04.24.02 BTC)_
> 
> _Chancellor's Service Medal (added 08.20.02 BTC)_
> 
> _Medal of Progress (added 03.07.01 BTC)_
> 
> _Medal of Valor (added 10.15.01 BTC)_
> 
> _Medal of Progress (added 06.09.01 ATC)_
> 
> _Medal of Valor (added 06.09.01 ATC)_
> 
> _Formal charge – Desertion (added 15.08.02 ATC)_
> 
> _Formal charge – Piracy (added 25.01.04 ATC)_
> 
> _Formal charge – Treason (added 23.05.11 ATC)_
> 
>  
> 
> _Last Modified – 23.05.11 ATC_

What in the actual fuck? No, it couldn't be. Theron swiped his finger over the link on the name 'Thompson, Wyatt A' and was immediately dumbstruck. It _was_ him, there was no doubt, the one he'd heard her call 'Andronikos' over the holo, the one who was banging his would-be girlfriend. No scars. Both eyes. But it was him. Son-of-a-bitch. The photo must have been taken when he received the elevation to Captain, because he was in full dress, and sure enough, the uniform bore the mark of the Starfighter Corps. Fuck, he was young, couldn't have been more than twenty-three, twenty-four at the time. He brushed the screen over to the next picture. This time the guy was in a flight uniform, standing amidst a group of other fighter jockies with a huge smile split across his face, his arms thrown over the two nearest him. Behind the group was a sleek starfighter – Theron couldn't tell the model – with the name 'Capt Wyatt Thompson' painted in scrolling letters just below the cockpit window.

“So yeah...this guy was a war hero,” Theron stated, with no lack of annoyance threading his voice. He backed out of the service record and returned to the main report, looking for the link to the reference photos FaceRec had gotten from the mission recorder.

“Could have taken my job someday.”

“What happened?” Theron opened up the FaceRec attachment, and started to scroll through the many images. He'd never been to Makeb before, but from what he saw of the planet, other than the burning lumps of charred droid remains, it appeared to be a beautiful location, or at least it had been at one time. Then he came across the first image that showed what he was looking for.

“Hmm, give me a sec,” Malcom responded, his fingers dancing over his own screen to pull up more information that only the Supreme Commander was privy to.

Theron grumbled, completely absorbed in the slideshow of pictures at his fingertips. The first that showed any actual Imperial presence was taken at a distance, depicting two Sith carving up a rather odd looking battle droid. One was the white Twi'lek – there was no mistaking her. But the other, he didn't recognize. The distance was too great to see her face, and she wasn't wearing anything he'd ever seen Nox – Lelu – wear. She could simply have changed up her dress, adopted more practical leather armor over the flowing robes, which would have made sense considering all of the sparring they'd done together, but the hair wasn't right either, unless she'd cut it. But that lightsaber, he'd never seen any Sith use one with a blade that color, except for one. It had to be her.

After a few minutes, his father spoke up again, diverting his attention. “Looks like he was one of the best fighter pilots we had – obviously...rose through the ranks faster than almost anybody...” His voice trailed off on a high note as he skimmed over whatever report he was reading. “Ah, here it is. Shortly after the Treaty, his squadron was patrolling neutral space where they were ambushed by an Imperial contingent. All assets were presumed lost.”

“ _After_ the Treaty?”

Nodding, his father continued. “It goes on to say that the 'incident' was glossed over as a misunderstanding, and that as a 'show of good faith' one soul survivor was returned. The Imps apparently had him for a month before returning him. He was awarded two medals...” He paused again, reading further. “Okay and then formal charges of Desertion were filed about a year later. It's starting to make sense, but why would he be working for them now?”

“He's not. He's working for her,” Theron replied absent-mindedly. It made what she'd done to him that much harder to swallow. He'd put himself out there, laid his life down in front of her and she'd walked away. But here she was, with a Republic deserter. On the other hand, could this have been an example of how his file would have ended up if he'd left? Not likely. His file was buried under layer upon layer of SIS clearance. And he was smart enough to never get found out in the first place.

Malcolm glanced over, his mouth turned down into a hardened frown. “Well, he's still a traitor.”

Theron rolled his eyes to himself, starting to flip through the pictures again. Droid. More droid. Wait. She looked hurt in the next one. The droid had been taken down, but even with the camera's distance, he could see that she was having trouble standing. Flip. Flip. _Scars –_ he wasn't sure he felt right calling him that anymore considering the guy had been a genuine fucking war hero – was with her in the next, supporting her by the elbows. She appeared to be clinging to him for dear life. Theron couldn't figure out what bothered him more, the fact that he could feel so jealous right at that moment, even though she'd been hurt, or the fact that he really didn't like that the Republic had managed to capture such a private moment showcasing her...mortality.

He growled in frustration, his fingers scrolling through images faster. “Are there no close-” And then his heart shattered. He stopped, almost dropping the datapad, mouth popping open in horror. Stars, her face. Her beautiful face. Fury bloomed in his stomach and he wanted to throw up. Half of her face was one giant bruise, probably a few days old judging by the palette of greens and yellows. Everywhere he saw exposed skin, he saw more bruises and scrapes. Someone had beaten the ever-loving shit out of the woman he loved. And he hadn't been there to protect her. In a rage, his hand gripped at the edge of the screen so tightly that the knuckles had turned white, threatening to crack the glass. He pinched the thumb and forefinger of his other hand to the screen, dragging them outwards to enlarge the image. She had broken blood vessels in the corner of one eye, giving her an almost sinister appearance when coupled with the irises that were most certainly not green at that particular moment in time. She looked absolutely awful. Though she was trying to hide it as she conversed with the Republic soldiers, he could tell that she was in a great amount of pain, and he could see the hardened expression on _Scars_ , who stood vigil behind her. Honestly, Theron couldn't blame the guy for looking like he was ready to murder the world, because he was pretty sure he did too right then. There was no way in hell she should have been out there.

But there was more. Her armor, well, it wasn't much in the way of armor anymore, was riddled with rips and holes. He zoomed in closer, his brows rising up in confusion. There were singe marks edging the holes. And her hair, it was all burnt at the ends. What the hell? “What the fuck happened to her?”

His father scrolled quickly through the images on his own screen, catching up to the first close-up. He flipped a few more times, zoomed in, and studied the picture, his hand coming up to scratch at his chin. “My guess? Coming from personal experience, I'd say she landed on the wrong side of a grenade...and got very lucky.” He tossed the datapad down on the cot next to him and looked up at his son. “She looks like she's a tough one. Probably should have been floating in a kolto tank rather than running around on a battlefield.”

Theron sat frozen staring at the picture, absorbing his father's words. The seconds ticked by into minutes and still he couldn't bring himself to move. His wanted to be with her. His heart needed to be with her. But, she'd pushed him away. She didn't want him. He was so filled with anger, confusion, resentment, and even then he couldn't help wanting to just drop everything and go find her. He knew where she was. This was his chance.

“Theron.” Malcom slowly reached over and pulled at the corner of the datapad, sliding it out of his son's hands. Even then, Theron sat rigid, bent over the datapad that was still there in his mind's eye. “Theron.” The sound of his father's gravelly voice was muffled like it was trying to reach him through a layer of fog, either that or it was being drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears. Theron felt something touch his shoulder. “You have to let this go.”

Theron first turned his head, then his eyes, finally focusing on whatever was touching him. His gaze followed the arm the hand was connected to, reaching the face of his father who sat there next to him with an expression of genuine concern written across his features. But still, it hadn't registered in his mind yet. It had stalled, taking a moment to catch up to realize that Malcom – his father – was touching him. They hadn't reached that point in their awfully awkward father-son relationship yet, and he felt like the man had crossed an invisible line.

When Theron flinched, Malcom pulled his hand away and let out a long sigh. “Look, I'm sending you on assignment.” He got up, pacing nervously in front of him, carding a hand through his hair in a very familiar manner because it was a move Theron used quite often.

Theron whipped his gaze up, narrowing his eyes in anger. And there was the catch he knew had to have been coming. Supreme Commander or not, he took his orders from Marcus Trant, Director of the SIS. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

“Trant knows and has agreed. This is for your own good. You have three days to report to Carrick Station where you will be deployed to the Outer Rim for an undercover op.”

Well, that pretty much meant that he was being benched, and pushed way away from anything having to do with the Empire or the Sith, more specifically one Sith.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fortune Cookie Says - "If you want someone to bite you, all you have to do is ask."  
> We all know Theron is awful with communication... ;P  
> And yes, I went completely cliche on purpose, lol. 
> 
> Writing Malcom is hard. He's THE BOSS, but he's doesn't really talk like that around his son, at least not when he's being awkward long-lost-father-guy. I read that canon restaurant conversation over numerous times, and I tried to keep it similar to that level of familiarity.
> 
> Note on the military record - total wingage... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	21. Here's to Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nik has a nice ass.  
> Nox has some thinky thoughts.  
> There are some feels.  
> There is some smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I should put a warning on the smut stuff...it's kinda rough? Maybe? I've said it before...everybody's gauge is different.
> 
> Some of this chapter was inspired by a love interest meme that circled around Tumblr not too far back, where it claimed that Nik was "kinky af," which I wholeheartedly agree with...and kinda ran with. It's nothing crazy if you're leery...there's no...chickens or anything. ;P

 

 

Gravity Hook Seven, The _Phoenix_ \- Nox

Clad in a tank top and baggy sleep pants that hung just below her hips, Nox padded out of the refresher in her quarters on the _Phoenix_ , running her fingers through her freshly cut hair. The burns had been much worse than she'd originally thought - it was so much shorter. Like. Really. Short.

It had been two days since she'd nearly collapsed on the field after helping Kira take down that Isotope-5 droid. Two days since she'd insisted on being the one to deal with the Republic soldiers on Makeb, all on the rather juvenile and misguided hope of seeing Theron again. Two days since Nik had grudgingly agreed to allow her the indulgence, and it wasn't because he knew she wouldn't listen, it was because he knew it was something she had to do in order to help ease her mind. She wasn't sure what she had been thinking, deep down she knew Theron wouldn't have been there. But still, she persisted.

She leaned against the doorway, unable to resist the lopsided smirk that crooked her lips as she gazed upon a very sleeping, and very naked, pirate only a few feet away. Andronikos was sprawled out on his stomach with his arms outstretched up over his head wrapped around a pillow, which made the muscles of his shoulders scrunch up in the most delectable of manners. He shifted slightly, turning his head in her direction, her smirk growing more into a grin with each passing minute she stood there watching him sleep. She could hear the sound of his soft snuffles reaching her from the bed, his breaths escaping through parted lips that were smushed adorably up against his shoulder. 

After the incident with the Isotope-5 droid, she'd been tagged as 'useless in your current state' and confined to her quarters. By two powerful Sith, one very angry pirate, and her personal medic. Like a defiant child. And this time, she'd listened. Eventually. But it wasn't so much for herself, even though she was loath to admit that everybody who had ganged up on her was right. Nik had been exhausted. The more she pushed herself, the less rest he got, and he didn't have the ability to squeeze extra juice from the Force. Or a Dashade.

Even with her near-collapse, they'd successfully managed to secure the engineers and technicians they needed to operate the drills, and Kira and Cytharat had installed them at the main drilling platform about fifteen klicks away. From what the Twi'lek had said, they'd been met with some mercenary resistance there, but it wasn't anything they couldn't handle. And because the Hutts and mercs still thought the planet was a quickly sinking ship, they didn't put up much of a fight. So really, there hadn't been much to do over the past couple days anyways, other than guard their resources while the science team worked to prep for the final phase of the plan to stabilize the planetary core. Or, at least that was what Nox kept telling herself as she stood there rationalizing in her head over and over the compromise she'd agreed to. Kira promised that she would notify her as soon as they were ready to execute, provided she stayed well out of the way in the meantime. Which meant going back to Gravity Hook Seven where the _Phoenix_ was docked so that she and Nik could rest up in the comfort of their own bed.

Their. Own. Bed. Eyeing the pirate's sleeping form, Nox let out an amused exhalation through her nose, her gaze drifting from his shoulders down his bared back, all the way to his hips and the defined curve of his backside, just barely covered by the light grey fabric of the bed linens. She tiptoed closer, perching on the edge of the bed at his hip, her grin blooming into a nostalgic smile as she took in the fine details that marked the years they'd spent together, years he'd given to her without question, written across his hide in the form of a scattered melange of darkened scars and burns criss-crossed over the smooth, golden brown skin. Scars and all, she'd always thought he was beautiful, from the moment they'd first met on Tatooine and beyond, through every narrow scrape, every Imperial power play, and through every brief respite they managed to find amidst all of the chaos to just be still and exist only for each other. 

She lightly traced the fingertips of one hand down from the center of his shoulder blades, slowly weaving a lazy trail, roaming about from mark to mark. She could remember them all. They grazed over the ridged line earned from a Killik on Alderaan right after they'd first met. The insectoid's blade had cut deep and the wound had bled profusely, but they'd still gotten out of the nest with their hides intact, for the most part. It was the first time she'd healed Nik with the Force, and the first time she'd seen the look of raw desire in his eyes (he'd still had two good ones at the time). It was a look she'd come to crave. He'd fucked her right there on the mountainside that day, despite being sore, bloody, and covered in grime, immediately escalating their relationship from jealous flirtations to an almost physical addiction.

As her fingers continued their meandering journey, his muscles flexed under her touch and he made a soft grumbling sound, exhaling a long murmuring sigh of breath. Pausing, her eyes flicked quickly up towards his face to see that he was still fast asleep, the years spent making war having been washed away from his features in his completely relaxed state. Forty-one years of what couldn't have been an easy life melted away like nothing, allowing her to see the man she'd met six years ago as if no time had passed. Moments like this were far and few between, things were always moving at such a rapid pace, and despite the fact that part of her railed at the concept of sitting idle, another part relished it. Besides, what the Twi'lek didn't realize when she'd shamed Nox into 'taking a break', was that the Dashade all of a sudden making rounds across the scattered platforms they held was keeping her apprised of the overall situation through the bond they shared. She'd know right away if anything were being kept from her. Sneaky. Effective. Theron would have been proud. 

Her smile renewed, she resumed her tactile sojourn, sliding her fingers over a patch of old blaster burns, eventually arriving at a mark that had been the source of quite a few laughs and stories over the years. On his side, just above his hip, she found the puckered curve of a bite wound. Not hers, she didn't leave permanent marks, though she felt that Nik would probably have rather owned that over what had really caused it. A womp rat. A really nasty womp rat. A really nasty womp rat that had grown curious about the two humans invading its territory, which happened to be a secluded oasis in a desert canyon...where those same two humans were too busy doing...things...to notice they were being watched. It wasn't funny at the time, well maybe a little, but it would always be one of those tales that would come up when alcohol was involved. And an inebriated Nik was never shy about lifting up his shirt to show off his 'battle' scar.

At some point, the pirate's breathing had changed ever so slightly. Nox could tell that he was awake, but he didn't move, instead choosing to lay there and soak up the attention. She grazed her nails up from his side and across his lower back, her amused expression faltering slightly when she reached another set of blaster burns on the right side. That particular memory was painful. Nik had lost his eye that day, and it was her fault. Because he'd been defending her when it happened. He'd been watching over her as she lay unconscious in the ass-end of hell on Voss, lost in a dream-state, fighting a battle in her mind. She'd won, finally gaining the upper hand over the four angry Sith Lords she'd been carrying around in her head, but when she woke, she'd found Nik wounded, surrounded by a pile of dead Voss and Gormak. He could have left her to her own demise, but he hadn't. She'd offered to get him the best cybernetic replacement credits could buy, but he'd turned it down, making light of it by saying that he really looked like a pirate at that point. All joking aside, it hadn't made her feel any less responsible.

“Don't you dare fucking stop.” Jolted out of her mood-spiraling reverie and back to the present, her gaze refocused on his face to find an amber eye cracked open, locked on her from the side. He'd been watching her expression harden as she sat there, almost frozen, her mental state shifting from good to bad to worse. “Stop thinking about voyeuristic Force ghosts and other old shit. It wasn't your fault and you know it."

"Bloody hell, Nik!" she scolded. It always drove her crazy when he caught her out like that. She shrugged her shoulders, more out of full-on embarrassment than anything, and slid the palms of both of her hands up either side of his spine, hoping to divert his scrutiny with the pleasures of a good back rub. Saving some of her dignity might also have been a bonus. “And you can read minds now?”

Her hands reached his shoulder blades, kneading and folding like the most expert of bakers before making a return stroke back down over the sloping contours of his torso, all the way to his hips and quite nicely defined rear. The pressure was enough so that the tips of her fingers left the faintest hint of evidence as to where her hands had been, only to disappear just as fast. It was amusing to watch his skin react to her touch, and Nik always enjoyed a brisk massage. 

“Hmmm, I don't have to,” he answered, flexing his muscles into a full-bodied yawning stretch before settling once again. After a few moments, Nox began to wonder if he'd fallen back asleep. His shoulders bunched up once again and stilled, but then the sound of his muffled baritone timbre broke the silence that had fallen around them. “It wasn't your fault.” 

She could only respond with a half-hearted and rather distant murmur as her hands continued their work. The finality of his tone told her that the statement wasn't meant to convince her of anything, that it was a matter of fact, and that should have helped ease her guilt.

Or perhaps she was feeling guilty about something else entirely. 

She should have realized back then what she knew now – that he'd do anything for her. He was there, for better or for worse. She sighed, shaking her head at her own stupidity. Why had she ever tried to keep Theron from him? She still couldn't figure that one out. Sith privilege wasn't the answer – she'd never completely bought into that whole concept for herself, not really, not in _that_ respect, and Nik knew it. She was somewhere around the age of twenty before even setting foot on the sands of Korriban, after having spent two years under Marr's tutelage, and even now, seven years later, she still found herself sometimes feeling like she was on the outside looking in, sometimes having to remind herself of who, and what, she was, and how she was expected to act. It was actually rather surreal at times, and infuriatingly difficult to deal with at others.

Was it because she somehow knew deep down, even before she'd realized it, that what she felt for the spy was more than just passing fun? With Nik, all of their dalliances with other people were a means to the same end, that end being each other. He was right when he'd said that at the end of the day, it had always been the two of them. Nobody else mattered. She'd never wanted, really _wanted_ , anybody besides Nik, until she met Theron. And she supposed that while part of her had been in denial that what she felt was real, the other part had been scared because she wasn't sure what it meant for them, for all of them, or could have meant. But, it didn't really matter anymore, did it? She'd never find out now anyways.

“ _Now_ where did you go?” he questioned. She felt him stir under her touch, bringing her attention back to the present with the sensation of his skin sliding underneath her fingers with his movement, finally coming to rest on his back with her hand grazing at his pelvis. He sat up next to her, running a hand up to the side of her neck, his thumb making slow passes over the soft skin of her throat.

Meeting his gaze, her lips flashed the slightest hint of a grim smile. She was pretty sure that Nik was the only thing keeping her sane at the moment. If it weren't for him, she probably would have already gone and done something even more stupid than letting herself get distracted to the point of carelessness around explosives and overly large armored men. Perhaps something like going off and trying to find Theron, like every fiber of her being was screaming for her to do. Wherever the spy was, she hoped he was moving on with his life, and that he was finally able to realize that she'd done what she did because it was what was best for him, not because she'd wanted to. That couldn't have been further from the truth. Both of their hearts had broken that day. She'd seen it, felt it. But it was the right thing to have done.

Nik studied her face for a moment, the pads of his fingers lightly tracing down over the curve of her collarbone to the hollow of her throat. “I know you've got a lot going on in there,” he started, sliding his hand back up the side of her neck to grip just below her ear, his thumb settling underneath her chin to force her gaze upwards. “And I know things aren't going to get better overnight...but I'm here, and I'm in it.” He leaned in, pulling her towards him into an embrace, his chin resting on her shoulder as he wrapped both arms around her. “I'm not going anywhere. We'll handle it together, okay?”

Clinging tightly to him, she snaked both arms up underneath his, her heart twisting sharply at the veiled thread of desperation in his voice. She closed her eyes, taking comfort in a scent that she'd come to rely on over the years, a rich, earthy fragrance that was distinctly Nik in every way. It made her think of deep, dark places, and hidden depths, and all she ever had to do was focus on that and she could find her center, being reminded that the man who evoked such emotions helped her to stay strong, kept her grounded (most of the time), and never failed to keep her on her toes, surprising her time and again with just how profound he could be. He was so much more than he appeared, one just had to get past that rough outer shell to see it. She _did_ rather like that rough outer shell though, quite a bit in fact, but what was underneath, that was what she'd come to love.

“Just...don't shut me out again.”

“Never.” Sighing, she turned her head to the side, caressing her cheek against his neck. She still couldn't believe how much things had changed, that she'd finally let everything in. Not to mention out - that had not been one of her finest moments, what with the near-dying, being drugged into submission, and then the uncontrollable waterworks. For a Sith to love and be loved, and all the dangers that came with it. All the pain and suffering. Life had certainly been much easier before. But now that she'd let it in, she wouldn't have changed it for anything. “That's never going to happen, Nik,” she insisted. “And that's actually what I was just thinking about.”

“I already told you that I'm not gonna hold that against you. That's in the past.” He pulled back, bringing his gaze level with hers, his expression betraying his unease at the thoughts running through his head.

Suddenly finding herself uncomfortable with the current course of the conversation, she looked down and away. She knew it was something they both had to work through on their own, and together, but it would take time, and she didn't think they were quite ready to go _there_ again, at least not yet.

“...and I'm also not gonna hold it against you for missing him.”

Thoroughly taken aback, her eyes whipped towards his. She hesitated for a moment, but no, there it was, his features finally lifted and she could tell he was certain. Brushing her fingers down over the scarred side of his face, she saw his trepidation and watched it fall away, leaving her with the realization that she was safe to tell him anything. The idea that they could be that open with each other over something so emotionally raw...that brought her mood right back up, all of the smiles she'd had for him before her emotions had gotten the best of her came flooding back in force.

“Bet you never thought I could be so deep, huh?” he laughed, subtle as always. She knew exactly where his mind was going - his brows may as well have been waggling. Waking Nik with a back rub was almost certainly a means to a very definitive end.

She giggled, her fingers squeezing at the apple of his cheek. “Oh, ha-ha. I see what you did there,” she replied, shoving him lightly back towards the head board. She couldn't help herself. His real, completely relaxed and open smiles were rare, and when he gave them to her, she became putty in his hands.

He shifted his gaze to rove over her shortened locks, carding his fingers through the cropped, spiky strands, testing the length. “You know, baby, you keep going and you're not going to have anything left,” he mused, his expression turning devious.

“Not enough for you to yank on, at least.”

“Oh really?” His fingers threaded to her scalp, closing down on a chunk, giving him enough grip to pull her face to within inches of his. “You'd be surprised at how little you need.” She'd asked for that, and she was not sorry. Not one bit. She watched the deep, honeyed brown of his eye darken, knowing that he was reacting to the throaty gasp that escaped from her mouth when he'd grabbed her, that her parted lips were so close to his, that her eyes were likely reacting to her own heightened arousal. He started to lay back, pulling her with him, forcing her out of her sitting position and to climb up on the bed and kneel next to him. His mouth was so close to hers, but he still didn't kiss her. “You know, I actually kinda like it.” He pulled her head back, growling at her exposed throat. “Yeah, I say we keep it short for a while. I can work with this,” he stated with feigned professionalism, releasing his grip to massage at the back of her head.

She bent back towards his face to kiss him, but pulled back at the last moment, eyes narrowing on him in amused curiosity. “ _Baby_?”

“Why not, just trying it on for size,” he chuckled beneath her, almost embarrassed. “Things feel a bit different, might be time for a change.” Things most certainly _did_ feel different between them. It was difficult to describe. The same, but...different. More real. More intense. If that was even possible. “Just don't call me _diddums_ or nothin.”

She retreated further and partially sat up, unable to contain the smirk that bloomed on her face. “Did you get that from one of those Huttese soap operas that I pretend not to know you and Ashara are completely addicted to?”

“I am not ashamed.”

“Hmmm,” she giggled. “You know, I always really hated that 'Sith' thing anyways. Just remember-”

“-I know the drill.” After six years, he sure did, for the most part. In public, she was the boss. Unequivocally. When they were with the immediate crew, now extending to Kira and Pierce, he had more leeway. She knew he liked to think of it as a game, how far he could push things. Such an adrenaline junkie. When they were alone, however, he had free rein, and a long time ago she'd made a promise to him – no pulling rank.

Realizing that her legs had fallen completely asleep folded as they were beneath her, she lifted her hips, sliding the left leg out to stand on briefly while stretching out the other, finally scooching back up to lay out in a more comfortable position next to him. She let out a pleased sigh, happy to be able to feel sensation creeping back into her toes, and ran a hand up Nik's chest to his chin, turning his face towards her. He inclined his head further to kiss her, but she actively chose to forego the oh-so-tempting and well-shaped lips before her for the time being, and instead went straight for his neck, running the tip of her nose up the side to nuzzle at his jaw. After a moment, she released his chin, ghosting her fingertips down over his throat and collarbone, beginning a painstakingly slow journey southwards.

Just as she had during her earlier roaming exploration of his back, Nox found even more memories of their years spent together, from the more recent blaster burns that were already starting to settle and fade into the background of his far shoulder, to the precise, circular brand only two inches to the left of his heart. She'd gotten to the sniper at the last moment, sending the agent flying right off a cliff, but not before she'd gotten a shot off. A shot that had, thank-the-stars, missed its mark. That sniper had been looking for her - further proof of the fact that those who chose to love her may as well have had a death sentence placed over their heads.

She brushed a kiss to the sensitive spot just below his ear, breathing an almost imperceptible 'I love you' against his skin, an affirmation that was for him alone, despite the fact that they were, indeed, alone in their own quarters. He exhaled heavily through his nose, placing a hand over hers briefly before moving it to caress at the side of her neck, the sound of the half-whimper, half-growl resonating in his throat giving her fingers cue to continue on their journey, running down over the muscles of his abdomen, tracing out each and every dip and curve of definition, every scar. They passed over the smooth diagonal line just above his hip, a clean, slightly pale slash that ran nearly to his navel, earned while barely avoiding a lightsaber strike to the gut. There were more - some shrapnel, a vibroknife, a nexu on Taris. She found them all, paid homage to them all as his pulse quickened more and more with every one she touched.

She moved lower, flattening the palm of her hand against him, sliding further, down over his pelvis, stopping just shy of the sheet that somehow still managed to hang on for dear life, like a dam holding back the tide. Breaking into another smile, she felt him start to thread fingers through her hair again, the other hand snaking around her side to support her, slipping just past the elastic waistband of her pants at her back to settle on the curve of her ass.

“So...those voyeuristic Force ghosts?” she mused, figuring she'd throw a random question in his direction to see if he was still paying attention...to anything other than what her hand was doing at that particular moment, and at that particular moment, it was slowly tracing light circles in the space between his hips with the pads of her fingers, each pass over the smooth skin inching even lower. “You do remember that one's still in there, right?” Circling lower and lower, she desisted her ministrations for a split-second to pull the sheet away, the sensation of the fabric sliding against him earning her a slightly louder and more harried grumble in response. How the sheet had managed to stay in place that long was beyond her comprehension.

It had taken her quite a while to get used to the idea of having passengers in her head. And of course, Nik had found a way to turn even that into sexual gratification because he'd said it felt like they always had someone watching, and he found that entire concept amazingly hot. Well, someone _would_ always be watching, because one of them had refused to leave when the time came to say goodbye. The passenger had become a squatter. She couldn't help laughing to herself at the idea of trying to explain _that_ to Theron. She had an ancient Sith Lord living in her head. A _male_ ancient Sith Lord. Thankfully, the Pureblood had kept his mouth shut since he'd decided to stay, and other than the occasional rush of extra emotion at seeing a particularly beautiful sunset or visiting a location that had once been familiar to him, she was largely unaffected, other than the knowledge that he was there. Seeing everything she saw. Experiencing everything she experienced. Mind. Blown.

“Yeah, he likes to watch. I get it. So let him watch. Bastard's got the best seat in the house." Running his fingers from her scalp down past her shoulder, his hand traveled the length of her arm to the one at his pelvis, urging her lower. 

She loved that Nik was not the silent type and he was most definitely not shy about letting her know what he wanted. Every pleasured sigh, baritone mewl, hiss, and moan she pulled out of him spoke volumes about how over the years they'd learned to play each other's bodies to perfection, and how even six years, an untold number of scars, four voyeuristic Force ghosts, one really fucked up Kaggath, and a handsome Republic spy later (they were still working on the Republic spy part), they still craved giving each other such musical release, at pretty much every opportunity they could find. 

She turned her head to the side, her lips quirking into a sly grin at the sight of teeth biting into his lower lip, unable to hold back the throaty mewling sound that escaped as he pawed at her wrist, pulling at her hand in an attempt to get her to finally get it over with and touch him. She could have just gotten right down to business, but torture was so much more fun.

“We don't get much of a choice there anyways," she responded dryly, watching his lips part as she spread her fingers flat against him, sliding them down over the close-trimmed patch of dark hair he'd eventually relented to keeping at her request, right up to the base of his length, letting the index and middle finger thread past. It would have been rather cliche, and rather untrue, for her to say that his cock was her favorite part - in truth it was his lips, or maybe his ass, he had such a nice ass, or his shoulders...such decisions. Definitely the lips. Or ass. But even so, she supposed she could say it was _one_ of her favorite parts, and it was perfect, not because of how big it was or wasn't, or that yeah, it was on the thicker side of things, or that it was just an all-around nice dick to look at...it was because it was a part of him. That and he most certainly knew how to use it. Now _that_ did sound cliche, but it was true. 

Finally deciding to give him what he was fishing for, she grazed her fingertips up the entirety of his length, curling the palm of her hand around the head, before sliding back down at a new angle. His hips rushed up to meet her, the breathy moan he gave to her hitting right at the base of her spine, making all of the teasing worth it. Resting her head against his shoulder, she allowed him to guide her movements, letting him lazily stroke himself to even greater attention. She encircled her fingers around him, stroking up one more time, around, and down, fingers teasing at the overly sensitive underside as they continued lower to caress at the tightening flesh of his balls, squeezing, coaxing, and petting. Nuzzling back into his neck, she moaned right against his ear, an anxious little purr, delighting in the goosebumps that bloomed under the touch of her warm breath.

She listened to the sound of his pleased grumbles, making the decision after a few moments that it was time to take things to the next level. Nik could go on like this forever, and had the willpower to let her do it. Nipping and nuzzling her way to the hollow of his throat, she noted how his body tensed up slightly beneath her in anticipation, his hand on her ass giving a bit of a squeeze to let her know that he knew exactly what was to come next. She could feel him harden further in her hand, which was a miraculous thing on its own, and when he squeezed at her ass again, this time hard, she sunk her teeth into the meaty part right where his neck met his shoulder. Hissing at the air, he snapped his hips up into her palm, fisting his other hand roughly into her hair as he held her head firmly against him. That got his attention. 

"Well, it's a good thing I don't mind having an audience then, isn't it?" he grunted, his words rushed and breathless. She felt his upper body tense further and then rather abruptly found herself firmly planted on the flat of her back, quite successfully pinned beneath him with his arms on either side of her head. He growled, low and feral, pushing his erection against her. She'd known it had only been a matter of time before he'd flip her, wanting the upper hand, and that had been her goal all along, but how she wished she'd had the foresight to lose her pants before that happened. Lips finally meeting, he slid his tongue against hers, suddenly breaking the kiss to hiss once again toward the ceiling as she dragged her nails down over his arched back and to the curve of his ass. He ground his hips into her, pinning her further, his mouth finding hers with renewed fervor. She felt a hand drag down her side and fumble with the waistband of her sleep pants. “Get these fucking things off... _now_ ,” he ordered, lifting his hips just enough for her to reach them.

Just as she started to shimmy them down, her holocommunicator beeped from its spot on the bedside table.

“Don't get it.”

Pants forgotten, she pulled her head back, looking up at him with as innocent a smirk as she could muster. It beeped again.

“Don't you dare get it.”

Without breaking her gaze, she reached over, picking it up. Another beep.

“Oh you are so gonna pay if you answer that.”

She smiled up at him, thoroughly amused at the look of impending punishment on his face. Yet another beep. How could she _not_ answer it? Holding the device between them, she winked, opening an audio channel. “Yes?” she answered, summoning the most syrupy sweet, eyelash-batting voice that had ever fallen from her lips.

“ _Hey lady, how are you feeling?”_

“Much more refreshed now, Kira, thank you. Even though I feel like I was falsely imprisoned.” The wink was what did it. Glaring down at her, Nik hopped up off the mattress, watching her watch him as he made his way around to the foot of the bed. “I assume Khem is making himself useful?”

In the span of a single breath, Nik reached down to grab at both legs of her baggy pants and pulled, ripping them down and off in one fell swoop, throwing them across the room.

“ _It took me a while to realize you'd sent a spy into our midst,”_ she chuckled.

The pirate practically dove back onto the bed, hooking his arms under her thighs, roughly dragging her towards those waiting, more-than-perfect lips of his. 

“So I assume everything has gone smoothly?” This was a battle of wills and she was not ready to concede, not just yet. She could do this. She could continue on with her conversation as if she didn't have a very orally talented pirate doing his best to distract her. And then, in the blink of an eye, she realized that she was oh so very wrong. He wasted no time. None. No teasing nips and bites at her thighs, no anticipation of building up to it. He just let her have it. And stars, was he g-.

Oh, oh no.

“ _Oddly enough, it has, unlike everything else we've tried to do on this blasted rock. Are you ready to come watch some fireworks?”_

No, not even in the slightest. Biting down on the side of her lower lip, she barely managed to suppress a moan, throwing her head back into the mattress as he nipped at her overstimulated clit, her conversation with the Twi'lek all but forgotten.

“ _...Lu?”_

She slid her free hand down her torso, almost reaching his closely shaved scalp before she felt him grab at the hand and hold it to the sheets, not allowing her to touch him.

“ _Nox?”_

“I...I'm here...” she sighed, scrunching her eyes shut, failing to keep any sort of concentration on the call.

“ _We're ready to get started down here. How soon can you get here?”_

She began to squirm, struggling against him, her muscles starting to tighten and quiver as he drove her mercilessly towards release. She heard a muffled growl, and felt his elbows force her thighs further apart, followed by another nip at her center. Biting back another moan, she nearly lost it when he slipped two fingers past the soft outer folds of her sex and buried them inside her up to the first knuckle, stroking her from the inside in such a way that, combined with the swirling laves, licks, and bites at her center, sent her skyrocketing right to the precipice. 

“ _...Is everything okay? Wait...where's Nik?”_

“...Rather indisposed at the moment...” All sense of modesty lost, she arched her back and cried out at the ceiling, pushing her shoulder blades into the mattress as her legs spasmed and twitched uncontrollably in the air, still fighting against his shoulders. There was a brief, passing wisp of thought that the muscles of her stomach were going to cramp and lock from the tension building around his relentlessly stroking fingers, and then through the fogged haze of her pleasure, she tried to pull her captured hand away, completely oblivious of its destination. She just had to touch _something_ \- him, her, someone else, it didn't matter. He tightened his hold, feeling her hand pull away, and threaded their fingers together, returning her squeezing grip in force, their knuckles turning white together in time with the quickly oncoming crescendo that was either going to make her head pop off or send her shooting off into the void and back. Or both. And she absolutely could not care less that the Twi'lek on the other end of the line was hearing everything. 

“ _Oh?....OH!"_ The amused voice let out a sharp bark of laughter. _"I see. Ninety minutes. We're not waiting.”_

As soon as the call ended, wavering right on the edge of white-hot orgasmic bliss, Andronikos let go of her hand and she felt him suddenly pull away, leaving her to the very cruel cold rush of air at his complete absence. “What? No! Don't stop...,” she mewled, thighs slamming together in hopes of getting back some semblance of the drunkenly intense sensations he had denied her, robbing her of her release and leaving her in a state of frustrated and uncontrollable lust. " _Nik_..." She was whimpering now, practically begging, her insides still twitching at the precipice. She'd half expected him to just pounce on her and fuck them both right onto the floor, but apparently that wasn't his game today. Her eyes snapped open to find him standing over her, a genuine smile spread over his still-glistening lips and chin.

Fine. He could watch.

She ran a hand down her torso to her pelvis, spreading her legs open before him, her gaze unwavering. Lower and lower, she slid her fingers over her pubic bone and down, through slickened curls and onwards, finding herself soaking, both from his lips and from her own continued arousal. Consciously keeping her eyes open and on him, she tilted her head back and moaned, long and desperate, her fingers finding their mark, stroking herself quickly back up to the precipice like a champion mountain climber.

Andronikos pawed the back of a hand across his jaw, his expression melting into one of solid determination, and bent down over her, supporting himself with one hand flat on the mattress. He held her gaze for a moment, and then she saw his single hunger-darkened eye move to follow his hand as it grazed over the skin of her neck and down to cup and squeeze at first one tank top-covered breast, then the other, finally travelling over the same southerly path that her own hand had just taken. She allowed her eyes to flutter closed, feeling his fingers slide under hers, stroking with her, eliciting another breathy exultation in the form of his name tumbling from her lips.

And then once again, right on the ledge of that same brutal, snow-capped mountain, ready to leap into oblivion, he grabbed at her wrist, pulling her hand away. "Uh-uh, there will be none of that," he stated flatly, snatching her other wrist out of the air like a cat. It was as if he were scolding a child fighting over a toy. Maybe he was. Shoulders locked against her, he held her there, chuckling at the rather lewd expletives flying out of her mouth in a seemingly never-ending tirade of pent-up frustration. It was surprising, the amount of curses and profanities one could pick up living with a pirate for six years, and he laughed again at the sound of those choice words being flung at him with a clipped Kaasian accent. He was lucky he kept his torso just out of range, because she had teeth and she wasn't afraid to use them. Moreso, she was quickly getting to the point where she might just use more than teeth. "You just had to take that call, didn't you?" he scolded, flipping her roughly onto her stomach and capturing both wrists behind her with a single hand as he scrabbled onto the bed behind her.

She was angry now, and it was exactly what he wanted. This was what he'd been going for all along. What he craved. The adrenaline. Not knowing what she would do, because he knew that at any moment, she could have the upper hand with a flick of her wrist.

Shifting between her knees, he forced hers further apart, one after the other, then pushed his hips forward, sliding his hardened length against her backside. "If I let you go, are you going to touch yourself?"

 _Yes!?! ...YES, and I'm going to throw you across the room and make you watch while I do it. And then I'm going to fuck you blind!_  

“N-no," she relented, lifting her hips against the hand that held hers captive at her lower back, practically purring at the knowledge that there was always next time. It wouldn't have been a very fun game if she always won. And next time, she would win.  

Releasing her wrists, he slid both hands down over the curve of her lower back and up to her shoulders, hitching up the hem of her tank top in the process. “How's your jaw holding up?”

“Still a bit sore, but better.”

“Everything else?” he asked, nipping at the flesh between her shoulder blades.

“You don't have to hold back, Nik.” She'd thought that would have been pretty obvious by that point, but it was sweet to know that he wanted to be sure first. She'd been in a lot of pain over the past couple days, yet it paled in comparison to how much her body craved his right at that moment. And she was feeling better. All that kolto he'd been rubbing her down with daily had helped a lot to speed things up.

He chuckled, sliding his hands back down over her skin. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

“I aim to please... _diddums_.” Managing her delivery with such deadpan seriousness, she had to bury her face into the bed sheets to keep from laughing. “OUCH!” She'd been expecting some sort of reaction, but she was not expecting him to take a huge bite into the fleshy part of her backside.

Almost immediately, he snaked a forearm around her waist and pulled her hips back against him, effectively skewering her upon him as he held himself steady with his other hand, very nearly forcing the breath right out of her lungs. It was what he'd been going for...to be buried up to the hilt without further delay.

The pirate was done playing and had moved on to an entirely new game.

Reaching forward to paw his fingers through her hair, he gripped, tugged...and then pulled her ear up to meet his lips. "Go ahead, say it again and see what happens," he warned, her skin prickling with a rather forceful bout of gooseflesh at the sensation of his deep, almost animal-like growl hitting her...everywhere.

Bloody hell, did that man know how to drive her up right up the wall, through the ceiling, and out into the atmosphere.

Worrying again at her lower lip, she bit back yet another drawn-out moan, slipping a hand up to the one dug into her scalp, tracing her fingertips back down over the length of his forearm. “Is that a challenge I hear, _diddums_?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on what Nik smells like - it's patchouli
> 
> My dad, the original Marlboro man, got utterly and totally addicted to 'Days of our Lives' when he was laid up after heart surgery. I figure, what else is there for a ship-bound Nik to do? It could happen. ;)
> 
> Thanks to my Tumblr buddy who listened to me whine and whine about wanting to just finish this damn chapter. I have no excuse as to why it took so long. I love writing anything with Nik...I should have been all over this one. And thanks for the tip about length of hair in reference to adequate pullage. ;)
> 
> 'Here's to Us'  
> Halestorm
> 
> We could just go home right now  
> Or maybe we could stick around  
> For just one more drink, oh yeah  
> Get another bottle out  
> Lets shoot the shit  
> Sit back down  
> For just one more drink, oh yeah
> 
> Here's to us  
> Here's to love  
> All the times  
> That we fucked up  
> Here's to you  
> Fill the glass  
> Cause the last few days  
> Have kicked my ass  
> So lets give em hell  
> Wish everybody well  
> Here's to us  
> Here's to us
> 
> Stuck it out this far together  
> Put our dreams through the shredder  
> Let’s toast cause things got better  
> and everything could change like that  
> And all these years go by so fast  
> But nothing lasts forever
> 
> Here's to us  
> Here's to love  
> All the times  
> That we messed up  
> Here's to you  
> Fill the glass  
> Cause the last few nights  
> Have kicked my ass  
> If they give you hell  
> Tell em to go fuck themselves  
> Here's to us  
> Here's to us
> 
> Here's to all that we kissed  
> And to all that we missed  
> To the biggest mistakes  
> That we just wouldn’t trade  
> To us breaking up  
> Without us breaking down  
> To whatever's come our way
> 
> Here's to us  
> Here's to love  
> All the times  
> That we fucked up  
> Here's to you  
> Fill the glass  
> Cause the last few days  
> Have kicked my ass  
> So let's give em hell  
> Wish everybody well


	22. Red Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here at the end of all things...there's fluff?  
> Makeb is saved. Maybe. Maybe not so much.  
> Talos wants to stabbity stab something.  
> We finally say goodbye to Makeb.
> 
>  
> 
> Finally.
> 
>  
> 
> Hallelujah.

Makeb, Drilling Platform  _Beta_  - Nox 

“ _The laser drill is at full power. We're following your program.”_

Nox couldn't take it anymore. The droning on and on. Scientific gobbledygook. Give her the driest, most tedious lecture on the histories and secrets of the temples of Yavin Four, and she was all over it, soaking it up like a sponge while the rest of the class snored away. Political machinations? Oh yes. A thousand times, yes. But this? Techno-talk of endless calibrations and re-calibrations, simulations and reconfigurations? It all became jumbled noise in the background as she stood watching the engineers scurry back and forth like tiny ants between the various banks of control terminals. Everything was resting on their success. It was now or never. They were going to save the planet, giving the Empire access to the most coveted resource this side of the galaxy, or they were all going to die trying.

She had to hand it to the white Twi'lek, though...Lord Akori'ira was owning Makeb. While the Wrath typically preferred more straightforward and physically visceral campaigns, she had made it a point to stay involved with the science team and Makebian engineers every step of the way. It was a personal vendetta of sorts for her, sticking it to the Hutt Archon who had gotten the drop on all of them at Stronghold One. Quite literally taking the planet right out from under the slimy worm and his grubby little hands. 

“ _Platforms one and two are fully functional. Accelerating destabilization of the Makeb planetary core.”_

Kira was the calm amidst the storm of flustered and nervous technicians. They gave her a wide berth, parting around her as if she were an immovable boulder in the middle of a roiling sea. Nox let her eyes follow the Twi'lek, watching the leather-clad woman pace slowly in front of a holocomm table, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, the slight twitch at the tip of either lek betraying the only sign of her nerves.

Floating above the table was an image composed of three figures - Katha Niar, Talos, and a Neimoidian scientist she couldn't remember the name of, but based on his level of involvement, it was clear that he was the leader of the scientific minds the Empire had supplied. The Neimoidian had conscripted Talos as his assistant, particularly the man's fine attention to detail. Together, they directed the technicians as they moved between the various stations and consoles, shouting at each other to make an adjustment here or tweak something there. All there was for Nox to do was to observe, and stay well out of the way.

Before long, she could feel the platform grating beneath her feet start to tremble. Wonderful. She assumed it was to be expected, as none of the techs seemed fazed by it. Still, it didn't help to ease her mind. At all. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“ _Narrowing beam by point-oh-two percent. We've got magma flooding the drill shaft!”_

Even more wonderful. And that was all she needed to hear. If they were going down with the drilling rig, she was most certainly not going to do it there, clustered in a room of blinking lights and computer terminals, surrounded by unnamed men and women in lab coats. She needed air. She turned on her heels, leaving the crowded control room behind her, and made a bee line for the observation platform right outside.

Nik was already out there, having given up on the constricted space inside almost immediately. Concentrating on keeping her feet firmly planted on the vibrating metal grating, she reached for the railing beside him, breathing a sigh of relief as the coolness of the metal sunk into the palms of her hands. From their particular vantage point, they had a very gorgeous – or very unnerving, depending on how one looked at it – view of the mesa the drilling rig was built into.

“Give up?”

“This is Kira's show, not mine...we're just here for the fireworks, remember?” She glanced over, following the pirate's gaze out over the landscape. As far as the eye could see, she saw rocky cliffs reaching towards the sky, and all of them were crumbling, breaking apart before them to fall into glowing rivers of lava. Numerous flocks of birds could be seen scattering away from the shifting and falling plateaus, squawking and winging towards the safety of the clouds. She didn't want to think about the other creatures that couldn't fly off to find a chunk of land that wasn't currently heaving upwards into a newly formed mountain range, or down into a bottomless pit.

She breathed in a deep sigh of breath, reinforcing in her head the idea that even though they couldn't save the entire planet, at least they, the Imperials, were doing more than the Hutts ever would have. Even if it was for their own interests. Every single death was on their slimy credit-grubbing digits, not hers. She'd never considered that they could actually die on Makeb if things went awry, lost forever amidst the shattered mesas and molten rock. It was a rather humbling moment, standing there watching as the world fell away around them. How the team was keeping the ground directly beneath them intact while everything else broke was completely beyond her.

“Some fireworks...can't say we'd get to see  _this_  every day,” he chuckled.

Andronikos had never been one for flowery descriptions, but he was indeed correct, that was for sure. It probably would have been the safest idea to have just stayed on the  _Phoenix_ , seeing as how the ship was technically in orbit above the planet, but that would have been the cowardly way out. This was her job. And even though it was rather unnerving to contemplate a particularly gruesome demise, such as falling into a sea of lava, the scene before them _was_ breathtaking in many ways. And a once-in-lifetime-opportunity. How many people could say that they'd born witness to a planetary apocalypse?

She was nervous. Scared. Excited. Exhilarated. The adrenaline was pumping. The floor was shaking beneath her feet. But even so, she was happy. Relatively content even. How strange it was to consider the idea of being happy and content here at the end of the world, but really, it just felt good to feel her strength returning. She hadn't realized just how stressed out and spread thin she'd been until her own figurative world came crashing down around her. She'd come through that apocalypse intact, she had confidence that they'd come through this one too.

Nox leaned back on one hip to stretch her back, straightening a leg out in front of her, bracing herself on the railing. The tight leather of her pants bit into the bruised welt left on the meaty part of her right cheek, sharply reminding her of the very near presence of the man standing beside her. It didn't help when that same man casually reached over and ran a hand up her backside, knowing exactly where to give a light squeeze. It made her think back to how it got there, and that right there was half the fun. For the rest of the day when she moved just the right way she'd be thinking about it, and how they'd made do with the ninety minutes they were given. She swayed her hip to the side, nudging up against the pirate beside her. “That still hurts, you know.”

“Good.” The delivery may have been all seriousness, but when Nox glanced over again, she saw the quirk of a smile at the corner of his lip. “You deserved it.”

“You were always such a romantic, Nik,” she laughed.

“You know it.” After a few moments, he took a step closer to her, closing the distance between them until their shoulders nearly touched, and slid his hand flush up against hers where it gripped on the railing. “I love you too, babe,” he added, brushing his lips over her temple. The words were spoken softly, as soft as Nik's graveled baritone timbre could make them, but they were filled with certainty, with a finality that further confirmed what she should have realized all along. It had only been a few days since she'd heard those words for the first time, but Nik's actions had been saying them for years.

Nox smiled, leaning into the caress. Her eyes scanned over the shifting horizon one more time, then slid shut, leaving her to stand there in silence, focusing on the sensation of the pirate's immaculately-groomed chin grazing at her forehead. She took comfort in the fact that he'd gone back to his almost-obsessive all-over hair care regimen. For the most part, if Nik sported stubble, something was wrong. Or they were so deep in the ass-end of nowhere that he couldn't get to a mirror, in which case, he'd usually figure it out anyways. So this was a good sign. No more stubble.

After a time, she felt, rather than heard, him let out an amused breath against her skin.

“You know, it _is_ kind of nice to finally have that out in the open.”

Hearing his words, Nox cracked her eyes open to focus on his shoulder only a few inches away, the contented curve at her lip melting into a smirk that matched the impish light in her eyes. She leaned closer, running the tip of her nose over the cream-colored fabric of his sleeve, and then without warning, nipped right through the shirt into the meat of his bicep. It was a playful nip, nothing more, which was what she was going for. Nik laughed, none too surprised, but more amused at her version of payback, and captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up to meet his.

“A few years late, but better late than never,” he admitted, their lips nearly touching, but not quite. Instead, he caressed his forehead to hers, their noses sliding together to allow for his lips to just barely graze over her own, a gesture that always seemed more intimate with him than a kiss alone could ever have been.

“Ugh, if you two are about done...”

Nox froze, turning her head against the pirate's grip to find Akori'ira watching them, for who-knows-how-long, the other woman's expression quite unreadable. She couldn't tell if the Twi'lek was annoyed, or pleased, or completely indifferent at finding the pair wrapped up in a rather ill-timed public display of affection, even though they had been alone on the platform the whole time anyways. Not to mention the fact that everybody else had been too busy to even notice. Until now.

She heard Nik's less-than-pleased sigh at her side, then felt him step away, opening the distance between them to one that was deemed professionally appropriate. That was their life. The drill, so to speak. Captured moments in-between the chaos. It couldn't have been easy for him, but it certainly was a life that could never be considered boring. And she was at last in a place where she could say that she was immensely grateful she'd found someone who would share it with her. Equal partners. For better or for worse. Even if that did mean he had to put his life in danger to do it. But, that had been his choice to make.

“Is everything alright, Kira?” she asked, backing away from the railing before turning her full attention towards the Wrath. The floor was still shaking and she didn't feel like being pitched forward and falling over the edge.

“Oh, no...we just saved the planet, is all.” The Twi'lek laughed, flipping her tchun over her shoulder to curl around her neck like the tail of a tooka-cat. Nox couldn't help noting that she'd left them unbound this time. Ever since they'd landed on the planet, her friend had been keeping them tightly wound together down her back with leather straps in order to limit their movement. But, their time on Makeb _had_ been met with near-constant battle up until that point, so she supposed it made sense. “I just thought you might want to know.”

“Why is it still shaking, then?” Andronikos had moved to stand next to Nox, snatching a hand to her elbow to help support the both of them against a particularly violent shift in the floor grating.

“They're saying that it's going to do that for a while yet until things settle. But the worst is over,” the Twi'lek stated matter-of-factually, beckoning to Nox to follow her back into the platform's control center with a tilt of her chin.

Feeling the pirate's touch still at her elbow, Nox paused before moving to follow the Wrath. “I should have never needed to hear it to know it, Nik,” she started, fixing him with a tight smile, not just a little ashamed that he'd pretty much had to spell things out for her. Stars, she'd been a fool. “But, you're right, just the same.”

“I always am. When are you gonna figure that out?” he laughed, flashing her one of those genuine smiles that never ceased to turn her knees to mush. “Go to work.”

\---------------

Following the Twi'lek back into the control room, Nox found the tight space filled with a gaggle of cheerful, hugging, hand-shaking technicians. She couldn't fault them. For many of them, Makeb was their home. But, even though she really was pleased that they'd managed to save the planet, she couldn't join them. Instead, she stood shoulder to shoulder with the Wrath, observing the overt festivities with a practiced level of detached pride and superiority.

“Nicely done, Kira.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” she laughed, relaxing back onto one hip.

There shouldn't have been, but Nox had to admit that it had been there, all the same. She never doubted the Wrath's skills in combat, but in delicate matters that involved precision and a certain level of negotiation and tact? A grudging yes. Besides, it wasn't as if the Twi'lek wouldn't have been the first to acknowledge that Nox had always been the greater diplomat anyways. Bending targets to her will was the Dark Lord's forte, while the Wrath specialized in more...direct tactics.

“Oh come on, you know you had doubts...admit it.” The Twi'lek's lavender gaze remained on the dancing lab coats, but it wasn't hard to see the rather overbearing level of smugness painted across her stark tattooed features.

Before Nox had a chance to fully demonstrate her responding eye roll, the Sith were interrupted by Talos, who still remained on the open channel to the other drilling platform.

“ _My lord, we're receiving a message from Darth Marr, but there is a lot of interference.”_

Nox stepped forward out of instinct, but stopped herself at the last moment, letting Kira respond with her approval to patch the senior dark councilor through. It  _was_  her show, after all.

“ _Darth Nox. The Republic and Hutt fleets are abandoning the Makeb system. They report that the planet is in its death throes. I am disapp-”_

“Makeb  _has_  been stabilized, my lord,” Kira responded, quickly moving past her obvious discouragement at being ignored. “The Republic and the Hutts just don't know it.”

Nox knew that it wouldn't have come as a surprise to either of them that the wavering and less-than-perfect image of her mentor located her right away and addressed her directly, rather than the Wrath. She and the older Sith shared a bond that had been forged many years ago. Not one of a mystical nature, but one of family. More family than her own blood had ever gotten her at least.

At the Twi'lek's words, the armor-encased Sith relaxed visibly, as relaxed as he ever allowed himself to appear to others, which meant a solid parade rest with his hands clasped behind his back. He was pleased.  _“Impressive. Then we must keep your secret. I have a fleet positioned several light-years away. When the last Republic and Hutt ships have fled the planet, mine will secure the system. Within the week, Makeb will be ours. Nox, as soon as you are able-”_

Marr's image flickered and disappeared mid-sentence, leaving them with static and a broken connection.

“Talos?”

“ _A thousand apologies! The continuing core fluctuations are causing the interference. It will take some time to restore offworld communications.”_

Nodding, Nox fought against her instinct to pace, the excitement of knowing they would finally be getting off that rock starting to gnaw at her. It was only a matter of time now. “Just as well, then. We can't afford to let our secret get out.”

“ _My lords, we can monitor and control the drills remotely from here. We should be able to control the last of the tremors and keep this continent from collapsing.”_

“Very good, Talos. Well done,” Nox added, sharing a slight smile with her resident historian, medical officer, and all-around brain-in-a-jar before disconnecting the call. If that platform was no longer needed, it was high time they moved on.

“Great, now let us go. We can get offworld and never bother your again.  _Please_.”

Both Sith turned in unison to focus on the technician that had made such an emboldened request. The silence in the control room grew palpable almost immediately, the only sounds being that of the continued rumbles in the distance as the planet rocked and settled. Realizing her folly, the woman retreated a few steps, bumping up against a console at her back.

“You heard the man,” Kira answered, beginning a slow pace in front of the woman. The Twi'lek broke into a rather amused smile. “We can't afford to risk word getting out that we've saved the planet.”

The technician's expression fell, and she began to fidget about nervously under the Wrath's gaze.

“Take them back to Gravity Hook Seven and hold them,  _comfortably_ , until is has been confirmed that the Hutt fleet has left orbit.” Not taking her eye off the woman, Kira gestured towards one of the guards, who nodded in acquiescence of her direct order. “You may have your freedom once our fleet controls the planetary space.”

“But you promised...”

“Promised? I promised nothing, darling,” she chuckled, her accented voice dripping with sarcasm as if it were the simplest concept on the planet to grasp. The Wrath's smile grew all the more as the woman fidgeted herself into an even more submissive posture. “Or perhaps you'd rather stay right here? It can be arranged...”

Nox thought it was a rather practical and well-thought-out compromise. They would get their freedom. Just as soon as it was safe. And it was most certainly a more desirable outcome than the alternative. Apparently the technicians didn't agree, however it wasn't as if they had much of a choice in the matter.

Out of nowhere, she began to feel a tickle in the back of her mind, followed by a wave of nausea and unprovoked aggression. Something was wrong. Khem. Her bond with the Dashade didn't allow for full imagery or communication, it didn't work that way, but she always felt him there. Like a strong wall she could lean on. Something that she'd grown to always expect and take comfort from over time. And the closer he was, the stronger the wall. Through the bond, whenever either of them felt a particularly strong emotion, the other could feel it, or at least have a general sense of it, if they were close enough. It was why Khem had quickly grown attached to Theron while on Rishi and Yavin Four, and why he was so protective of Nik. Those were particularly, exceptionally, strong emotions.

“Kira, something's not right.”

“What...?” the Twi'lek started, turning towards her in question before realizing that Nox was sensing, rather than seeing something tangible. “Khem?”

She nodded, feeling another wave of nausea.

“Last I knew, he was at the main platform, with Talos. What the hell could be going on?”

“Stay here and finish up. I can handle it,” Nox stated, standing tall, exuding every drop of confidence she had. She genuinely felt like she could handle it. After two days of relaxation, focusing on only herself (and Nik), she felt like she was ready to take on anything.

The Twi'lek studied her for a moment, searching for any sign of weakness. “Yes...yes, you can,” she agreed. “It's good to have you back, love.”

 

Makeb, Drilling Platform  _Alpha_  – Nox

The shuttle ride back to the primary drilling platform was fraught with a heightened sense of nervous speculation, and agitation, on her part. She really had no idea what they would find. All she knew for certain was that Khem had been enraged, which meant that something had happened that she wasn't going to like. Waging together into combat, the Dashade was at his happiest, when the bond almost sung between them, but this was very different. And not pleasant. At all.

"So what do you think happened?"

"Honestly, your guess is as good as mine, Nik," she huffed, bracing herself against the unending turbulence in the doorway of the shuttle's small cockpit. She couldn't bring herself to sit down. "You know it doesn't work that way." After so many years bonded to her very large, overly protective bodyguard, she still hadn't grown used to his mental state rubbing off on her. Usually it was the other way around. 

"Whatever it is, it can't be good."

Nox spent the rest of the ride wrapped in silence, trying to ignore her roiling stomach, concentrating on what could help to calm her nerves and give her a sense of focus. And just as with many times in the past, her eyes fell to the pirate at her left, and watching him fly. His full attention had been given to avoiding flocks of escaping birds and shimmering pockets of smoke and heat, but her full attention was on him. She'd always loved to watch him fly. It was his art, just as surely as the fluidly acrobatic dance of the saberstaff was hers.

The tiny ship pitched and rolled, fighting against the same planetary interference that had prematurely ended their original landing, only now it was amplified exponentially by the shifting core. After that first day, she'd only trusted Andronikos to fly them anywhere, even over the dedicated pilots who had been navigating the planet's particular quirks for years. The man really could fly a brick through a shitstorm, as he so loved to remind her. Over and over. He certainly had never been shy about talking up his own piloting skills. Even if it happened to be completely true. 

It had taken them the better part of fifteen minutes to get back to  _Alpha_ , where Talos was stationed with the Imperial scientists. And Nox did not like what she found when they got there. Bodies. Mercenary bodies. Imperial bodies. Khem alone was standing over a sizable pile, with her resident historian huddled at his back brandishing a deceptively small vibroknife. She had to remember that while the hyper-intelligent man was indeed a master of all things intellectual, helpless he was not. Talos could be rather vicious if push came to shove.

“What happened?” As soon as the shuttle stopped moving enough for her to make the leap, she landed firmly on the platform, steadying herself against the continuing tremors before trotting to their position. 

“My lord, we were attacked by the Hutt Archon's forces. A dozen Regulators with an assault shuttle. Complete snatch n' grab.” Talos sheathed his vibroknife, kicking a booted foot at one of the dead mercs. “Khem managed to take most of them down, but a few got away," he added, quite obviously avoiding her direct gaze. That spoke volumes. Talos was one of her favorite people, and there were few enough of those. She could forgive him almost anything, so she knew there had to have been more to the story.

"And?"

He lowered his voice, clearly uncomfortable with what he was going to say next. “They took Katha.”

“Wonderful,” she spat. Interrogation...exactly what she would have done if the roles had been reversed. “If he learns that we've stabilized the planet, the Hutt fleet will never leave.” Why couldn't anything ever be simple? The planet was still shaking at every turn, enough so that anybody outside of their team should have been convinced it was in its final death throes. This should have been it, their well-earned win. Their way off that damnable rock. “Where is Cytharat?” she asked, her impatience starting to bubble over.

“I am here,” the Pureblood called from the doorway, his usual air of dignified grace cut with a layer of resentment and anger at being caught unawares. As he drew closer, Nox could see that his internalized anger had translated through to his eyes - a deep, predatory gold, only now they were wreathed with a blood-rich crimson. “The shuttle flew toward the Archon's estates. I was getting the exact coordinates." 

“Then why are we still standing here?” She nodded to Nik, stepping back onto the shuttle from one breath to the next. “Khem, stay here and see to it that our unwelcome guests do not return. Cytharat, you're with us," she added, tilting her chin back towards the waiting shuttle. "Talos, please keep this damned place afloat.” There was no hesitation or waiting for acknowledgement - when she spoke, others followed. She saw Khem nod in her direction, and her stomach settled, thankfully. Both a blessing and a curse, that bond. 

“Give him a jab in the kidney for me!”

“You can count on it, Talos,” she chuckled, stepping aside to give the Pureblood room to hop through the shuttle door. Once he was aboard, she slapped the palm of her hand against the outside hull, giving Andronikos queue to leave.  

The pirate wasted no time in speeding the shuttle off into the horizon, pointed towards the coordinates that Cytharat had provided. Yet another fifteen minutes. “Any idea what we're walking into?” he asked.

“Our limited intel suggests primarily automated defenses.”

Andronikos huffed, stifling an annoyed bark of laughter. “Hutts and their toys.”

“Indeed. It shouldn't be a problem to cut through," Cytharat explained, supporting himself with a hand firmly wrapped around one of the numerous ceiling hooks. "At this point I'd say it's just a race to see who will get to Katha first.”

“You know she's going to tell him everything, right?”

“Sadly, I do.”

 

Makeb, Szajin the Hutt's Palace - Nox

Cytharat had indeed been correct in his assessment of the remaining Hutt forces. Szajin, the  _Archon_ , had pretty much squandered his resources in the end, like a foolish child playing at war, leaving himself barricaded behind layer upon layer of automatons and turrets. A foolish child, yes, but even so, it was enough. They were too late. All the Archon needed was time, and he'd gotten it.

By the time the two Sith and the pirate with deadshot aim managed to cut through the practically unending swaths of automation, an hour had passed. Only an hour, sixty minutes, which may as well have been an eternity for one seemingly as small and insignificant as an Imperial by the name of Katha Niar.

Felling the last droid with an arc of purple lighting, Nox stepped over the charred remains and into a small room that could easily have been mistaken upon first glance as an ordinary med bay. One wall was lined with brightly lit exam tables, and neatly organized trays of various implements and syringes adorned a shelving unit on another. In the corner stood an inactive medical droid next to an empty kolto tank. It very well  _could_  have been a medical bay, but one thing was missing. There was no scent of antiseptic or kolto permeating the air, which would have been typical for a room used to heal. Instead, her nose was met with the rank odor of bodily waste, pungent and sharp, coupled with the metallic undercurrent of fresh blood.

Andronikos was next through the door, right at her heels, and stopped in his tracks as if the smell was an invisible wall he'd just slammed into. “Ugh, great,” he muttered, holstering his blasters so that he could hold a sleeve up to his face. It wasn't anything they all hadn't smelled before, but it definitely wasn't something one could easily get used to. Some, maybe, like that ultra-creeper on Korriban who experimented on the tuk'ata. But definitely nobody Nox wanted to know.

Pushing past the pirate, Cytharat paced stiffly down the center of the room, scanning between each table until he came to a stop at the last one. “She's here.”

The Pureblood had worked more closely with the Imperial throughout their time on Makeb, and Nox could easily detect the thread of sadness, perhaps even regret, in his voice. He felt responsible - the woman had been taken on his watch. Nox knew the feeling. Katha should never have been there. From Imperial Logistics to Covert Ops? How did that even happen? But, she'd made her choice. It still didn't make it any easier. 

“We have to assume she talked, Cytharat,” Nox observed, coming up behind him. She'd never particularly cared for the woman, but few deserved what the Hutts had put her through. Their techniques were gruesome, even by her standards. Unrefined. No artistry. Downright crude. They hadn't had enough decency to even pick her up off the floor where they'd left her, lying in a puddle of her own waste. What was left of her, that is.

“I know,” he sighed. “We shouldn't leave her here.”

“We don't have time for this.” Nox stood for a moment, eyes scrunched shut in thought as she pinched at the bridge of her nose. “Nik, Cytharat and I will go on ahead...-”

“-Yeah, I've got it,” he answered, shaking his head in a very distinct 'why me' sort of gesture. “Just...go.” The pirate gave her the smallest hint of a reassuring smile and turned to begin looking for...something...to transport a body in.

\---------------

Leaving Andronikos behind to collect Katha's remains, the two Sith stormed out of the torture-converted med bay in search of their target. It didn't take long. There were no more defenses that deep into the compound, which displayed a level of hubris all Hutts seemed to possess in spades. It never ceased to amaze her at how stupid they could be. One more set of lavishly enameled double-doors and they found their slovenly host, alone in his throne room, addressing the last of his mercenary captains via holo.

“ _I have three hundred men waiting for shuttles. You promised time to evacuate.”_

“Makeb is not exploding, idiots...I have proof!"

And there went their big 'shhhh-nobody-can-find-out' secret. Of course. Nox paused mid-step, holding out a hand for Cytharat to stop behind her. They were going to have to resort to drastic measures. Fuck, she'd been hoping they wouldn't have had to. In all honestly, she didn't particularly enjoy the destruction of planets as a whole. In fact, she'd rather avoid it entirely. But, the worm was pushing, so she was going to have to shove. Hard. She took a deep intake of breath and held it, eyes clenched shut, shoulders braced as if she were waiting for a stab in the back. "Cytharat, I believe we're going to have to take things...to the next level here." She opened her eyes, focusing on nothing in particular, and let out the breath she'd been holding in a drawn-out admission of defeat. Of sorts.  

"You're right," he sighed behind her. "I don't see how there's any other way we can do this without risking a leak." She turned towards the Pureblood, seeing him nod in agreement. "I'm with you."   

She knew both of them were of similar mind. They would do what they needed to in the name of their Empire. Even if that meant tearing a world apart in order to leave no witnesses. "I don't like it either," she admitted. "But it needs to be done. This is all on him." She pivoted on her feet in front of him, steadying herself. "Give me a moment."

Seeing the Pureblood's nod of understanding, she allowed her eyes to slide shut, and she took in another deep breath, finding her center. She let her focus pass beyond herself, to the Sith standing just a few feet across from her, to the slimy Hutt on the other side of the room, hidden from sight by the many pillars holding up the garish ceiling above them, to the pirate several rooms away, still in the process of taking care of Katha's remains, and finally to the distant touch of her Dashade miles away. She held it there for a moment, and then brought the focus back in, swallowing with it every regret and reservation she had, shoving it all down to the bottom of her gut. She couldn't hesitate, not here. She put up her walls, separating who she knew she wanted to be from the person she had to be, in order to become the Sith she was expected to be. To become the very person she had pushed Theron away to keep him from, the person she knew he would have come to resent, even hate, in time. One who could kill so easily, even innocents, should the need arise. A destroyer of worlds. 

When she finally opened her eyes again, they showed no sign of their natural emerald depths. The woman who would have felt any sense of unease at being directly responsible for the deaths of thousands was gone. And the woman who was left? The one with eyes the color of red-hot fiery rage? That woman smiled. 

"We're going to play a little game," she mused. "Just follow my lead." 

Side by side, the two Sith rounded a pillar and made their presence known to the group of mercenaries, as well as to the ten-foot tall giant slug in the center of the room. 

“Ah, I was wondering when my guests would arrive. You're too late.” He was gloating, and Nox couldn't help noting how adorably pathetic it was. 

“Oh dear, are we?” Nox pouted, her face painted with an over-the-top expression of feigned concern. “Such a shame.” Eyes flicking briefly to the Pureblood at her left, she strolled forward a few steps and leaned back casually on one hip. She was pleased to see Cytharat had taken the hint and was mirroring her movements.

“Mock all you want, Sith. Your secret is already out. My mercenaries are spread across Makeb," the Hutt explained, his stubby little arms waggling around in the air for impact. "And you cannot possibly stop them before they contact my fleet.”

Nox giggled as if he'd laid out the best punch line she'd ever heard right at her feet. “Really? Are you sure? I mean, really, really sure?" she joked, folding her arms over her chest. "Because, I don't know if I'd make that bet.”

“I think he wants to make that bet, my lord," Cytharat added, goading her on from his position several feet away. Projecting a similar aura of snarky condescension right beside her, he let out a remarkably dubious stream of masculine laughter, palming the lightsaber at his hip. That was an accomplishment. She'd always seen the Pureblood as proud, one to stand above fear tactics, but he was playing his role like a master. They both were. Two feline predators circling their cornered prey.

“Indeed, I think he does, my dear Lord Cytharat.”

“What are you two getting at?" Szajin was starting to show his doubt. She could smell the blood in the water, and it was delicious. "If you kill me, my mercenaries will spread the word...immediately. The Hutt fleet will _never_ leave.”

“You mean _these_ mercenaries?” she questioned, her brows quirked in mock uncertainty as she held out a hand in a grand gesture that was all grace, refined and delicate, summoning just enough of the Force to tickle at their windpipes. Each of the mercs started to hack and cough in turn. 

“Nice try, but that won't work. They die, there are still more to get the word out.”

“Oh I know, dear," she laughed, snapping each mercenary neck down the line. Flick. Flick. Flick. One. Two. Three. The holos went dead, and the sound of her musical giggle dancing through the air somehow made everything all the more disturbing. "Don't you worry about those pesky little mercs. I just wanted to show _you_ what I'm going to do to you if you don't tell-them-all-to-leave...right now." She began a slow pace in front of him, her teeth bared into a predatory grin. She may as well have had a tail, because one could almost picture one swishing behind her, back and forth, like a krak'ja cat ready to pounce. She gave him a few moments to consider her words, watching his eyes dart back and forth in fear, but still he did not move. "No? Very well," she sighed. "It seems you've forced my hand." She frowned, genuinely hurt. Maybe not so much. "Just so you know, I was perfectly content to leave the planet intact," she scolded, holding up the wrist that held her communicator. "Talos?"

_“Yes, my lord?”_

""Spread across Makeb," you say?" she pondered to the air in general, as if somehow expecting the Hutt to confirm for her what she'd heard him brag about only minutes before. She turned her attention back to her wrist. "Just how exact can you be with those wonderful little drills you have at your fingertips?”

_“With the proper adjustments, we...could render most of the planet lifeless, leaving just this mesa intact. But evac-”_

“Thank you, Talos," she interrupted. "Do be a dear and set that up." The part of her that would have cared about those evacuees was crushed under an immovable layer of sheer will to get the job done. She was doing what she had to. Normally, Talos would have hesitated more at such an order, but he heard the slightly left of crazed tone and pitch to her voice, and he knew that when he heard that, there was no questioning. 

“You're bluffing.” His loss for words seemingly broken, the Archon began to slither towards her, his stubby little arms waving around again in a manner that almost made her keel over in laughter. 

“Oh, I can assure you, I'm not. I really am a terrible bluffer." That was the truth. 

"She really cannot bluff. I've seen it, it's awful,” Cytharat nodded beside her.

_“My lord, we're ready when you are. Say the word and it will be done.”_

“Consider it said. Just remember, Szajin...this is your fault." 

After a few moments, the ground beneath them started to shake and pitch in force again, confirming for her that Talos had followed her order. A flicker of guilt managed to pop up and wink out like a spark dying out upon the dampened ground, quickly forgotten, at least for now. Smiling up at the Hutt, she resumed her pacing, waiting for an update from _Alpha_ platform. 

_“My lord, I can confirm that no mercenary bases remain on the map.”_

“So, tell me again how I haven't won?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no explanation for the end. Nox scared even me. I didn't know she had that in her. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> I suppose the only thing I can say is that she knew she'd be killing untold thousands...she had to lock her true self away, and that's what came out. And it was creepy. And disturbing. The only thing I could picture was Angelina Jolie as Maleficent.  
> And thanks to my friend for the 'giggles' conversation. Good times, good times. Here's to creepy giggles!
> 
> "Red Stars"  
> The Birthday Massacre
> 
> It's my red star  
> It's my red star (can't let go)
> 
> Best of cruel intentions  
> Binding what they fail to mention  
> No truth  
> All pretension  
> Raise your hand to give attention
> 
> You'd give it  
> We'd take it  
> You'd build it  
> We'd break it  
> You sign and we erase it  
> You'd feel it  
> We'd fake it
> 
> It's my red star (steal it)  
> It's my red star (can't let go)  
> It's my red star (conceal it)  
> It's my red star  
> Oh no...
> 
> Wasted education  
> Celebrating imitation  
> Misplaced admiration  
> Speaking for a generation
> 
> You'd give it  
> We'd take it  
> You'd build it  
> We'd break it  
> You sign and we erase it  
> You'd feel it  
> We fake it


	23. Because I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron takes the pity party on the road.  
> Theron runs into an old friend.  
> Theron runs into an old friend, who runs his head into a wall of truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for drowning one's sorrows in alcohol, debatable abuse of said alcohol, as well as general depression. 
> 
> Normally I go with a theme song as the title for each chapter, however, this time part of the song is in the chapter. So if you recognize it before you get to the full lyrics at the bottom, you get a keto cookie! 
> 
> Note - You may not want said keto cookie, but you can just pretend it actually tastes good. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Republic Space, Carrick Station – Theron 

If a person were to spend any amount of time traveling between the Core worlds, chances are they'd eventually end up at Carrick Station at some point. Both a hub for civilian transit and trade, as well as strategic military staging, the station was a constantly moving sea of activity. In the past, Theron had always enjoyed the endless hustle and bustle. He enjoyed the anonymity, the people coming and going, the faces changing on a near-hourly basis. From vendors calling out their infinite variety of wares, to bizarre cuisines from the four corners of the galaxy, to rabble-rousing shore leave antics, to bar fights, to exotic dancers and prostitution...there was always something going on. A person could just fade away into the blurred background. One shadow among many. A spy's natural habitat.

But today? Today, Theron could not make himself enjoy the comfortable wash of seclusion and all the relief it usually brought him as he stepped off of the elevator from his ship's hangar and breathed in the familiar air of a living, breathing heartbeat. People in close quarters. An untold number of species and cultures mixing and mingling together into one single note. Food, spices, perfume, sweat...body odor. That made it sound awful, but it was just the scent of...life. It wasn't good. It wasn't bad. It was the base ambiance that always seemed to permeate any busy space port or tightly enclosed urban setting. There were usually unique overlays that would change from place to place, such as the distinct note of starship fuel that currently tickled at his nose, but those simple common threads were nearly always the same.

Merging seamlessly with the flowing current on the station's main circular thoroughfare, Theron stole a glance at his chrono, noting that he had a few hours to kill before his briefing. Ugh, he didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be back on Coruscant either, or on Tatooine, where he was undoubtedly being shipped off to for his father's version of time out.

Theron turned a corner and trotted down a short set of stairs into the lounge at the very center of the station. It was always where he'd end up if he had extra time on his hands, or if he was meeting a contact, and it was the perfect place to people watch. Then there was the rather obvious bonus. What typically went hand-in-hand with the word 'lounge'? The word 'bar'.

“Corellian whiskey. Neat.” He slid onto a stool in front of the blue-lit flat surface, nodding towards the Zabrak bartender.

Scowling at Theron's lack of common courtesy, the bartender made his way over and measured out a shot's worth of the golden brown liquor into a tumbler in front of him. 

“Go ahead and leave the bottle.”

“You're paying for it now then,” the Zabrak replied. His scowl grew as he took in his customer's appearance. Theron imagined he looked somewhat like how he felt. Exhausted. Out of sorts. Depressed. Upset. On edge. He thought he remembered showering the day before (or was it two days now?), but he hadn't shaved in over a week. And there were those three-day-old bruises and that nice split lip he'd gotten out of his last social interaction. He looked like a bum. A very shifty-eyed bum. No wonder the guy obviously didn't want any part of him being there.

“Sure, whatever.” Theron produced a small hand-held datapad from an inside pocket of his jacket and waved it over the payment kiosk. After he approved the transaction, the bartender left him in peace, needing no further encouragement to stay away. Which was exactly what he wanted. He didn't need anybody else looking at him like he was a deviant or wondering what the hell was wrong with him. And he most certainly did _not_ want to talk about it.

Taking a sip, Theron leaned forward on his elbows and focused his gaze on the back of the bar, studying the various bottles and glasses lit by the soft blue light panels behind them. At certain hours, the bar and lounge served as a night club, and the lighting went with it. It was actually kind of relaxing. Another sip and Theron let his gaze, and his mind, start to drift.

The only place he wanted to be right at that moment, other than at the bottom of a glass of perfectly aged whiskey, was balls deep inside the woman who broke his heart. Nox. Dark Councilor. Sith. The Enemy. The Woman He Loved. At least he thought he did, when he wasn't thinking about how much he hated her in the next breath.

Wherever she happened to be, he didn't care, as long as it was at her side. It certainly wasn't Makeb, not anymore, not after what he'd heard earlier that day. The planet was...gone. Ripped apart from the inside. He hoped she'd gotten off world before that happened. A flicker of panic stabbed through his empty stomach, but when he thought about it for a moment, he realized that the Imperials had probably known about the planet's demise well before it actually happened, and had likely planned for it. She was fine. She had to be.

And then there were those bruises and burns he'd seen in the pictures his father had. The ones that made her look like she'd been beaten senseless by someone carrying a flamethrower. A grenade had done that? At least, that had been the ongoing theory. He would have given anything to know the full story, to have been with her to-

No, he couldn't go there. That was never going to happen. All he could do now was realize that no matter how much he wanted to stay jealous that someone else had been there, a man by the name of Andronikos, or Wyatt, or whatever...a Republic deserter...the jealousy was, oddly enough, hard to grasp at. Yes, it was still there, buried beneath the surface, but mostly he just felt an almost sense of relief that _someone_ had been there for her. And judging by the look he'd seen on the man's face, he cared about her every bit as much Theron did. Dare he say more, if that was even possible.

Did he hate the guy by default? Wasn't that what he was supposed to do? 

The blunt and surprisingly honest answer was that no, he couldn't make himself hate him, now that he had a story to go with the scarred face. He did have to admit to himself, though, that perhaps he was just a bit envious, and it wasn't because he had Nox, well not entirely. He'd seen the man's military record. Complete-And-Total-Poster-Boy-For-The-Republic. They could have used his picture for recruitment ads, and even then they'd screwed him over. His father had given him the behind-the-scenes insight that was never supposed to have seen the light of day. A cover-up. _Captain Thompson_ had lost his entire squadron to an attack in neutral space after the Treaty had been signed, and his own government, the one he'd given his life over to, had done _nothing_. It shouldn't have been a surprise that he had walked away.

And that was where Theron's envy came into play. Andronikos, Wyatt...whatever, had given his pound of flesh and had come out the other side intact. He seemed to have found his place, and something worth fighting for. _Someone_. And that was what Theron wanted. How ironic then, that it just so happened to be the very same thing. 

He really kind of would have liked to have at least met the guy. Was that weird? Yes, yes it most definitely was weird, because how could that encounter possibly have ended well?

Theron took another sip, making an audibly rude sucking sound through his teeth as he stared blankly across the bar. Why did his mind always insist on returning to the same place? More like person, actually persons? And how was it that thoughts of her specifically somehow brought him both pain _and_ comfort? Shouldn't it just be pain? Either way, whichever won out at any given time was as unpredictable as which way the wind decided to blow.

One of his hands unconsciously drifted from the glass set on the bar's surface and reached for a secured pocket sewn into the inside lining of his jacket. He barely even realized what he was doing until he had the strip of sheer golden shimmersilk in front of him, running through his fingers. It was something he'd done plenty of times before, always when he was lost in his own thoughts, and a bottle of alcohol. That stupid piece of fabric he'd taken from her hair was the only thing he had of her, other than a few pictures. Well, and the tattoo on his chest. Which itched something fierce at the moment.

It didn't take long before he began to feel a nice warm hug start to unfurl in his stomach. (It was amazing how fast hard liquor went to work when you haven't eaten in over a day). He focused on the slippery soft fabric in his hands, how it ran through his fingertips like her hair once had, and the tension in his shoulders started to relax by a notch. It was comfort today, then.

His mind drifted further, getting lost in the sounds around him. Above the base din of indecipherable voices, Theron's implant-enhanced ears picked up a random news broadcast (more Makeb), the bartender banging around glasses somewhere in the kitchen behind the bar, a gaggle of fly boys on shore leave hitting on a so not interested Nautolan across the lounge area. Then there were the whispers of a tipsy couple on their first date who thought they were being more quiet than they really were, and lastly, the low notes of a song playing on the nearby jukebox.

It was an old song, likely recorded before he was even born, but he recognized it as a classic. One of those songs that withstood the test of time. He knew the tune, which was slow and very instrumental, but he'd never really listened to it before. At least not the lyrics. And good grief were they depressing.

_Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore._

Well, the guy certainly had that one right. Theron had no fucking clue what his _truth_ was anymore. Was he still a Republic citizen? A member of the SIS? A high-risks operative who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty in the name of his own faction? Technically? He guessed? It was kind of hard to be all of those things when you didn't even know what you were fighting for anymore. Or why. Ignorance had been such bliss, and now all he had left was to just go through the motions. 

_Because I love you. Yes I love you. Oh how I love you._

Ugh, wonderful. This was awful. The singer's pained crooning sounded like someone had just shot him in the foot. And the viol, or whatever the hell instrument it was, was equally painful, making it worse. In any other mental state, the song would have been haunting and beautiful, but at that particular moment in time, it was still haunting...and pure torture.

_Gazing at people, some hand in hand...just what I'm going through they can't understand._

“Oh for fuck's sake,” he muttered under his breath. Could this entire situation have been any more surreal? He turned his head, aiming a fairly righteous hairy eyeball at the first-date couple now eating each other's faces off a few stools down. Seriously? Get a room, assholes.

That was enough of that. He slouched down on the stool and leaned over the bar on one elbow with his back towards the maker-outers, doing his best to tune them out, along with the song that just so happened to be the definition of his current mind state.

If his mood hadn't have been foul enough, it sure was reaching nuclear levels now. Even the small comfort given to him by fumbling around with his little piece of Nox had flown right out the window. The day, no week...okay let's just go with month, was just one series of unfortunate events after another. What was next? Falling off the bar stool? That was a distinct possibility, if he kept drinking. He wondered how bad it would look if he were to show up to his briefing three sheets to the wind. Eh, whatever. There were no fucks to be given.

“Drinking alone, handsome?”

Theron's ears pricked up at the sound of the rough-edged voice behind him. His whiskey-muddled mind processed the distinctly feminine timbre and then managed to pull up a recognition, a very old one, bringing the semblance of a smile to his face, which was quite the feat. Well this was a pleasant surprise.

A hooded figure dressed in dark robes slid onto the stool next to him, thankfully on the other side from the lovers that _really_ needed to find a room...or a quiet corner of the station.

“Are you hitting on me, Raz?” He casually slid the hair tie back into its place in his jacket, hoping that the shrouded visitor wouldn't notice.

The hood panned in his direction, and he saw the edges of two lek peeking out from underneath, only to run under the loose flowing neckline of the black robes that were meant to conceal them. Two distinctly white lek.

“Maybe,” the voice giggled. A pair of delicate white hands reached up to the front of the hood and pulled the cover up and away, revealing a very distinctly white face and a long set of lekku, both absolutely covered in Sith tattoos. “Sorry I missed the party on Yavin Four, but you know how well I get on with your mother. Possibly even worse than you do.”

Razi'ilziveri. General of the Republic. Knight of the Order. And Theron's only friend in the galaxy. If he hadn't have been sitting smack in the middle of the Republic fleet's space station, which sat securely in the heart of Republic space, he would have thought he was sitting next to the Emperor's, err Empire's Wrath. But he knew better. Not to mention that Raz had both luminous purple eyes and was relatively scar-free. But damn, if it wasn't fucking weird.

They were identical. There were some differences in the lines of the tattoos, and Raz had more of them, but the style and artistry were the same. She was covered in them, head to toe, just like he suspected the Wrath was. It was pretty obvious that they had to be long lost twins, but the tattoos just took it over the top. Like the Force was playing a really sick joke that no one would ever find funny. And how they ended up on opposite ends of the galaxy was the question of the hour.

He and Raz went way back, and before meeting her he'd never seen a white-skinned Twi'lek before. Sure, pale blues and yellows, some pinks, but this was white. Like white white. And then he'd met Lord Akori'ira and was thrown for a loop. When he first saw her he'd thought she _was_ Raz, which was why he'd almost fallen over in surprise at the time.

He had spent all of about half a second thinking about mentioning it to his mother, because she'd clearly noticed the oddity too. But, she and Raz weren't exactly on good terms and besides, she'd likely have spouted off some serenely boring nonsense about the Force working in mysterious ways. Oooooh.

And of course, he would have liked to bring the whole thing to Nox, but what would he have said? _“Yeah, so I've got this Jedi friend, and she's the spitting image of your rather less-than-diplomatic bestest bud. No, I'm not talking a slight resemblance...I'm talking mirror image. How 'bout that? What a coinkydink, huh?”_ Um, no. Nox would have had to have seen Raz to get the full depth of the weirdness.

But, it wasn't like that would happen now...not unless they met on the battlefield. Stars, he hoped that would never happen. Despite being sworn enemies by default, he had a feeling they'd have actually gotten on quite well. Nox was different from any Sith he'd ever met. (Killed? Really, hooray for irony.) And Raz, well Raz was not your average run-of-the-mill Jedi.

Fuck you, geography. Fuck this war. And fuck everybody who profited from it.

Focusing on the nearly-healed cuts and bruises on Theron's face, Raz narrowed her eyes at him and grabbed his chin between a thumb and forefinger. “Shit, Shan, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know me,” he mocked. Pulling away from her vice-like grip, he did his best to put on a fake smile, something akin to that of a game show host. "A few innocent hookups, where I may or may not have known the name of the person I was hooking up with, a couple of random fist fights, a short stint in the drunk tank...all around good clean fun. The usual. Nothing new to see here, folks."

“I _do_ know you. And you look like utter crap.” She sighed, shaking her head at his oh so predictable snark, a tactic he always tried to use against her, which always failed. She was not to be dissuaded. From inseparable childhood partner in crime, to kinda-sorta girlfriend and/or occasional fuck buddy, and finally to best friend, Raz had always been his mirror. Never one to sugar coat anything, she called things like she saw them, which usually meant she was about as subtle as a freight train, and she never stopped trying to take care of him as if it was her mission in life. “You've lost weight...have you been eating?”

“Let me see....what day is it?” Tapping a finger against his chin, he pretended to ponder the question, then swallowed down the last sip of his first glass of whiskey.

“Ugh, you were and always will be such a walking disaster, spy princess.” She leaned forward on one elbow to face him, watching him reach for his pre-purchased bottle of liquor and pour another tumbler for himself. “And _that_ is not food.”

“Say it 'ain't so.”

Fanning a hand in front of her face, she breathed out an audible huff and hopped up to strip off her loose robes, revealing the rest of her lekku, hung down low over either shoulder, and her casual I-don't-plan-on-gutting-anybody-today street clothes. The lightsaber hilt securely clipped at her hip was a given. “So much better...it's fucking hot in here,” she laughed.

"You're always hot, Raz. You'd run around naked if you knew you could get away with it."

"Don't tempt me."

Just as she was throwing her robes over the stool next to her, the bartender rounded the corner from the kitchen. One look at the stark white-skinned Twi'lek covered in Sith tattoos sitting at his bar stopped him right in his tracks. Mouth popping open in surprise, horror, or fear...he clearly had no idea what to make of her. Raz got attention, both good and bad, wherever she went, which was why she usually hid herself under a tent of robes when she was in public like this. She'd always said that she'd rather not have to deal with ignorant people and their naturally ingrained fear of Sithy boogeymen, so she tried to avoid that sort of confrontation at all costs. The sad thing was that most Sith looked just like everybody else, but that didn't stop people who didn't know any better from singling her out. If only they knew just how much she'd done for them, more than most other Jedi could say, that was for sure. Another life given over in service, underappreciated and even downright mistrusted.

“Hey, can I get a nerf burger and fries for my friend here?” she asked, summoning a warm smile for the Zabrak despite his rude reaction. His eyes flicked nervously from her to Theron and then back to her, and she let her hands rest casually on the bar in front of her to show that she wasn't a threat. This was nothing new for her. “And, um, just get me the spiciest thing you have.”

Theron watched the man nod and walk stiffly away back to the kitchen. He'd never gotten used to seeing people react to his friend in such a manner, but lately, he'd been able to learn first-hand what it felt like, of sorts. They were both social pariahs now, though for very different reasons. Actually, maybe not so different...though more people knew about his love life than they did about hers.

And those Sith tattoos were very real. Raz had been a Sith. For three years. It had been against her will, but she'd remembered every moment of it, in time. And though she had returned to the Republic, her time spent in the thrall of the Emperor had irrevocably changed her, both inside and out.

Even as a padawan, she'd always struggled with the restrictions and expectations placed upon her shoulders by the Order. Repress your emotions. Don't fall in love. Don't form attachments. Don't do what needs to be done in the name of the Republic. Don't get your hands dirty. Always take the moral high ground. She had always walked too closely to that very fine line for his mother's comfort, and when she returned after disappearing for three years, with a very prickly (no, really) Sith at her side, she no longer struggled with those old restrictions. She'd thrown them right out the window. A Jedi with the heart of a Sith, or so she'd told him.

She was the only Jedi Theron had ever known to wield a red blade. Proudly. Perhaps it was an act of defiance on her part. But the last time he'd seen her, after they'd fought together to retake Tython at the beginning of that whole Revanite fiasco, he'd noticed that she'd put down the red blade for a new one, this time pure white. When he'd asked her about it, her response was that the white blade symbolized her decision to walk away from the dogmatic restrictions that held her back in the past. She wanted to forge her own path. It _was_ sort of poetic to think about, because in science, white light was the culmination of all visible colors. So, it kind of made sense. 

“So what has your panties all in a twist?” she asked, relaxing again down onto one elbow to face him. 

His back went rigid at the sound of her question, and Theron scowled at the glass bottles in front of him like they had offended him in the worst of ways. He took another sip of the brown liquor, letting it sit on his tongue for a moment before swallowing it down. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“And there it is. So the rumors are true, then.” The seconds ticked by in silence between them and Raz just let it happen. She studied him under her scrutinizing lavender gaze, watching him spin the glass idly between his fingers. “You fell for her, didn't you?”

Theron let out an annoyed huff of breath through his nose, eyes flicking from the wall in front of him down to his friend's elbow set against the bar. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. “That obvious, huh?”

“Shan, in all the years we've known each other,” she began, snatching the glass from his hands as if she had every right to do so, “I've seen my fair share of guys and girls making The Googly Eyes at you. I used to be one of them, remember?” She chuckled low in her throat, studying his profile for a reaction, then took a swig from his glass for herself. “Not _one_ has turned your head for more than an instant. Not even me. Now _you're_ the one with the sad puppy face.”

“She's a Sith, Raz,” he blurted out, probably a bit louder than he'd intended. “What the-” Theron stopped mid-sentence, dropping his voice to a whisper as the bartender rounded the corner from the kitchen carrying two plates of food with him. “What the _fuck_ am I supposed to do with that?”

“Um, eat it when he sets it in front of you?”

“That's not what I was talking about, and you know it.”

“And? What do you want me to say, welcome to the club?”

Setting two mounded plates of food in front of either of them, the Zabrak bent down behind the bar and produced two bottles of water and an empty glass for Raz. “I just wanted to apologize for my inappropriate behavior earlier.” He fidgeted about nervously for a moment before continuing. “I see all sorts in here, day in and day out...you'd think nothing would faze me anymore.”

“Hey, no worries,” Raz replied. She reached out and placed a hand on the man's forearm, giving him cause to relax visibly. Theron had to hand it to her, she had a way with people. That was his Raz. Always with the touching. 

“I had some mynock leftover from a party the other day,” he continued, tilting his chin towards the mysterious, and rather gross-looking, plate of food in front of the Twi'lek. “Anyways, let me know if I can get you anything else.” Producing a tight-lipped smile for the both of them, he turned and walked away, moving on to a new customer further down.

“Yum, a plate of grease...just what I needed.” Theron inspected his own plate of food with a surgical air, wishing he could summon an ounce of appetite. He knew he hadn't been eating enough, and yes, he had lost a few pounds. It was just so easy to forget normal day to day living when he was on the job or when something was eating at his mind, which happened entirely too often. Eat. Sleep. Shower. Shave. Fuck. The only thing that always seemed to come together effortlessly for him was his hair. And the fucking.

“You're going to eat that even if I have to shove it down your throat.”

It may have sounded like a hollow and overly exaggerated threat, but he had no doubt that Raz could, and would, force him to eat if push came to shove. Sighing in defeat, he picked up a fry and examined it, then watched her dig into her own plate. “What exactly is that anyways?”

“Curried mynock...and it's actually not half bad.”

“It looks like puke.”

“It would probably taste like puke to you. Really spicy puke,” she laughed. “Eat, Theron. Please?”

“Yes, dear,” he complied, taking a bite out of his nerf burger. As soon as the juicy cooked meat hit his tongue, a knot of hunger appeared in his stomach that he hadn't even realized had been there. He had to stop himself from practically inhaling it.

Raz watched him take each bite, as if she were worried he wouldn't finish. Her fears were unfounded though, because the burger was gone after all of a few ravenous gobbles, and the fries along with it. “I see you still have the table manners of a rancor at a birthday party.” She smiled, her genuine amusement reaching her eyes, and cracked open one of the bottles of water, placing it in front of him. “Now drink that.”

“So where is _Lord Intensity_ anyways?” Finding himself suddenly parched, he gulped down about half the bottle in a single swig.

“Getting the ship refueled. We're in the middle of chasing down another lead...heading off to Belsavis. Yay. So not my favorite place in the galaxy. I swear, if we don't find a cure for him soon, I'm just going to start humping everything in sight.”

Theron nearly spit out the water in his mouth around a rather awkward bout of laughter that sounded an awful lot like choking. “Don't make me laugh. You're ruining my brood here.”

“So...” She paused, reaching for her own bottle of water. “Are you going to tell me about her?”

All laughter stopped, and Theron felt his knee involuntarily start to bounce against the bar stool. Just what was she expecting out of that question? “There isn't much to say, Raz. I already told you. She's a Sith. The Enemy. Or that's what I'm supposed to say, right?”

“Don't give me that shit, Theron.” The tone of her voice almost made him flinch, and he did flinch when she tossed the bottle cap she'd been toying with at his head, hitting him square on the bridge of his nose. “Of all people, I'm the one who gets it. I lost my faith in the Republic a long time ago, falling for a Sith only sealed the deal for me. And I know what it looks like. I figure it's only a matter of time before they try and lock me up in their little rubber room of we-can't-handle-anybody-who-is-different,” she added, waving her arms around in a manner befitting the crazy person his mother thought she was. “Because stars forbid a Jedi show even one shred of independent thought and practicality. One day, they're going to decide they need to try and  _fix_ me, and when that day comes, I'll be gone. There's nothing holding me here.”

“There's always the Sixth Line.”

“Nah. Ilya's been trying to get me to sign on for over a year now. They're still Jedi. Different red tape, but red tape all the same. I like being an independent. My military connections, and the occasional pretty-boy spy friend,” she added, nudging Theron on the shoulder, “throw me assignments once in a while, and I get to pick and choose what I want to do. Leaves me with time to chase down leads on Scourge's little problem.”

Theron couldn't help wondering what it would be like if he were to just throw in the towel and walk away, taking contracts wherever he saw fit. Saying 'fuck you' to everybody who had tried to keep him from being where he wanted, with who he wanted. Except for the sad and depressing fact that one of those people standing in the way just so happened to be the person he wanted to be with.

“They've chewed us both up and spit us out. I disappear for three years and nobody gives a shit but you. I've done nothing but serve faithfully and without question, and I'm the deviant who all of a sudden isn't to be trusted...until they need me, of course.” She was on a roll now, and Theron was not about to stop her. Raz was very bitter where the Order was concerned, a sentiment they both shared, and she was right. “You're thrown out on your ass just because you can't lift a rock with your mind. But yet, you're still expected to live at their beck and call. It's like you have two bosses, and it's fucking ridiculous. So yeah, I find it amazingly fun and ironic and just plain awesome that you've fallen for a Sith. A Dark Councilor no less. I only wish I could have seen the look on your mother's face.”

“Amazingly fun and ironic for you, maybe...still ironic for me, but also pure hell. And the look on my mother's face was epic,” he laughed. Reaching for the bottle cap she'd thrown at him, he started to fidget, pushing it around in lazy circles on the bar with his index finger. “She gave me an ultimatum, you know.”

“Well, you're here, so I assume that you took it, at least in part.”

“Not by choice,” he spat. “And yes, this is my father's way of keeping me out of trouble, apparently.” His eyes shifted from the bottle cap to his datapad that was lying where he'd left it on the bar after he'd paid for the bottle of whiskey before Raz showed up. Turning the screen on, he tapped into a photo gallery and pulled up the first image in a set of several that were taken over the course of the year he'd worked with Nox. The most recent was a selfie he'd taken with her on Yavin Four. They looked so...happy...and normal. If normal involved one or both parties looking like they'd lost a round in a boxing ring. (Normal? What the hell was normal anyways.) But even with the half-healed cuts and bruises he'd earned on Rishi, they were all smiles. Cheek to cheek. Her hair was loose and flowing down around her face and they were outside, sitting in front of a campfire. Yes, they looked _that_ cliche. It was one of the rare times they'd been able to be close while out of doors, because the immediate vicinity behind the staging area hadn't exactly been a main thoroughfare.

He let out a long exhalation of breath, and slid the datapad over to Raz.

“Aww, Theron, honey, you were a couple....” The way she said it, she might as well have been talking about two adorable stuffed toy gizkas sitting on a shelf, but then one of them fell, leaving the other alone and it was the saddest thing in the galaxy.

He watched her flip through the pictures, unable to help the stab of resentment in his gut, even though he'd looked at them himself at least once a day since their split. Her with Khem Val, and Khem was most definitely not smiling. (Could Dashade even smile? Maybe he was, then.) A shot of her saberstaff hilt sitting on the desk, the reference image used for his tattoo. “It wasn't just sex, Raz. I know it's hard to picture Sith as being anything but...Sith...”

“No, no, I get it.” She stopped mid-swipe, looking up at him with an amused, yet somehow also confused expression written across her starkly tattooed features. “Really, I do. You think Scourge is _Lord Intensity_ all the time?” she laughed. “Well, maybe he is...he might be a bad example. But, he's still a man. A man who can't feel...anything...which is what we're trying to fix, but yeah, he's a man. He wants to be near me. He wants to touch me, and he can, he's tried, but it's just not the same when he can't feel what I feel in return.”

Gulping down the last of his bottle of water, Theron grumbled through his nose, waiting for Raz to resume flipping through the pictures. Next up was another selfie with Nox. This one was a few days older, and his facial injuries were more apparent. And instead of them both smiling at the camera, she'd surprised him with a lick up the side of his cheek. The slightest hint of a grin tickled at the corner of his mouth at Raz's reaction to the picture before she moved on to a shot Nox had taken of him, engrossed in his morning ritual of tending to his blasters. He could see the reddened graze of scratches running over his shoulders and biceps, which sent a painfully arousing twitch right down to his groin.

“Damn, Shan...I forgot how gorgeous you are naked. You've had more work done as well, I see.”

“Even more now,” he muttered, hoping she wouldn't ask for any more detail. Thankfully, she hadn't bothered to comment on the scratches. Perhaps she figured it was just an occupational hazard that came with the territory...such an awful, awful occupational hazard. He had to shift on his seat, working out an uncomfortable pinch that had formed due to the images that were now flying through his head. “You know...she did this thing...with the Force....”

“Oh yeah?” Raz tore her gaze from the screen in her hands to look at him, her tattooed brows raised in curiosity.

“You never did anything like that.”

“Oh...well, so sorry to disappoint,” she responded, shaking her head with a mock anger that would have almost been convincing if it wasn't for the curl of a smile quirking at the side of her lip. “We're not all the same...ass.”

Another bottle cap whizzed by his head, narrowly dodged, but it was totally worth it. “Aw, c'mon. You know we make better friends than anything else.”

“I know.” Nudging her shoulder against his, she lowered her voice back down. “She's beautiful, by the way. And that,” she continued, flicking back to point at the first selfie, “that right there...that's what I want.”

He looked down at the screen in her hands, studying the same image he'd sat and stared at daily for the past several weeks. His throat had gone dry and he kidnapped his friend's barely touched bottle of water to help divert his attention away. “I thought there was something there, Raz. I really did. I was drawn to her from the first moment I heard her voice, when she pissed me the fuck off with a snide comment about being from the Republic. I would have hopped into bed with her that first day...” he chuckled, rolling his eyes at the look the Twi'lek threw at him because she knew him and his proclivities all too well. “But nothing happened. Not for a year.”

“And what was she like?” She tapped back through the pictures, landing on the last of the bunch, which was the one he'd borrowed from the FaceRec file his father had shown him. “Other than a pretty face?”

Theron's knee started to bounce involuntarily again, betraying his nerves. He reached for the bottle of whiskey, but yanked his hand away when he heard a very threatening and authoritative order to leave it, like he was a puppy being scolded for stealing scraps off the table. “You're not making this easy.”

“Things usually aren't, if they're worth it,” she advised. “And drink the water.”

Contemplating on what he wanted to say, he drew in a deep breath, then let it back out with a very distinct and over-the-top puff of his cheeks. How could he possibly sum up all of the feelings running through his gut, his heart, his head, as well as _other_ places, into any semblance of a coherent thought? But, he'd give it a shot. He'd never expected, though, that the words he managed to pull straight out of his ass would have been so poetic.

“Fire and ice... Hard and soft... A ravaging tempest and the calm at the eye of the storm. All at the same time.” Staring off at nothing, he let his words trail away, his mind lost in thought. He heard her murmur something at his side, pulling him back to the present, and he snatched the bottle of water from the soft-glowing surface, probably a little harder than he needed to. “She was...gravity. She lead by example, from the front lines, and she fought with a ferocity and a grace I've never seen before. Her people respected her. Feared her. Loved her. Laid their lives down for her. I saw it every time I walked through the Imperial camp on Yavin Four, and there is no doubt in my mind that if the Empire stood united behind someone like her, the Republic wouldn't even stand a chance.” He took another deep breath, and turned his head so that he could look her right in the eye. “And I don't even know anymore if the galaxy would be such a bad place to live in if that were to come to pass.”

An awkward silence grew between them, and Theron began to wonder what she was thinking, half expecting her to scream at him for being a traitor, but it never came. She was just as tired as he was with fighting someone else's war, and it was pretty awful when you didn't even know what it was about anymore. He thought about telling Raz that Nox had been raised a slave to help reinforce his argument that she was different, and that she was super close to Darth Marr, who he also respected the hell out of, but those weren't his stories to tell. Raz got it though, even without those extra details.

“So...you'd have left it all behind? Your parents? Your career? Your friends? Well, friend...meaning me?”

Ugh, now she was getting down to the really tough questions. He really, really could have used a shot right then. He swallowed down a loud gulp and started fidgeting uncomfortably on his stool, spinning the empty water bottle in his fingers. “And what would you do? If Scourge all of a sudden decided he needed to leave? You'd go with him, right?” he asked, waiting for her nod of ascent before continuing on. “I'm under no illusion that it would have been easy to do. But I wanted to try. I've always been the one on the outside looking in, and I wanted my chance...” Not wanting to go any further with that particular thought track, his voice died away, leaving them with another heavy silence.

The Twi'lek frowned next to him, watching his mood start to plummet again. “Perhaps someday we'll all be on the same side.”

“It doesn't matter anyways. She broke things off right at the end.” Theron hesitated for a moment, then made a run for the bottle of whiskey, ignoring her grumbling response, and poured a hefty draught into the tumbler. “Always nice to find out you were just a toy all along...” Those last few words, they were bitten off...chewed up and spit out with loads of anger, resentment, and heartache. No matter how much comfort he managed to find when he got lost in memories of his time on Manaan, Rishi, and Yavin Four, he always tried, and usually failed, to avoid that last day. It was a full-out crime scene in his head. Complete with caution tape, orange cones, and an outline of a body in the shape of his heart.

Raz sat back from her lounging position on the bar and let out a noise that was somewhere between a huff and a cough. “Are you even hearing yourself? Is that what you really think?” Swiveling her stool to face him directly, she shook her head in disbelief when he didn't respond. “So this is just you wallowing in your own pile of shit, then?”

“I'm not following...”

“Theron, we've known each other since we were kids. And you always shut down like this when you get hurt. But I think you've got it all wrong here.”

He stared into his glass of liquor, his mind refusing to connect the dots she was trying to lay out in front of him.

“Ugh, do I have to spell it out for you with letters in the sky? You were making fuck-me-pounce-me eyes at each other for a year before anything actually happened.” She stopped, holding up an index finger for grand impact. “ _Sith_. _Year_. Look at this picture again.” She grabbed the datapad and held it out in front of him. Flip. Flip. Flip. Then the screen was back to the first picture all over again. “There is absolutely _nothing_ in this picture that isn't real. What else did she do to make you think anything different?”

“She did exactly what she said she wouldn't do!” he snapped, loud enough that a few nearby heads turned in his direction to see what all the fuss was about. “She ran away. I told her I didn't want things to end, I laid my fucking life right at her feet, she pushed me away, _and-she-ran_.” Counting off the last part on his fingers, his breath caught in his throat and he made himself look busy by quickly pounding back a gulp of liquor, fighting against the very real desire to lash out and hurl the half-full glass into the wall of bottles behind the bar. “She took that choice away from me, Raz. Just like everybody else.”

He heard a defeated sigh at his side, but he refused to look his friend in the eye for fear of breaking down even more.

“You know, for one so smart, Shan, you sure can be absolutely fucking stupid.”

“What did you say?” Now he was squeezing the glass in his hand so hard his knuckles had started to turn white. That was all he needed...a screwed up hand to go with his screwed up knuckles that he'd earned from punching the wall in his refresher three days ago.

“I said you're acting like a fucking moron," she stated, rather bluntly...rather like a freight train. "That's right, go ahead, get pissed. But you're pissed at the wrong person.” She reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, hesitating a moment when he flinched under her touch. “How can you not see it? It's staring you right in the face, waving its arms around like an idiot, and you still only see what you want to.”

“Well then why don't you enlighten me.”

“If you'd spent any time at all paying attention in class, you'd know that pushing you away went against every base instinct she has. She can have anything, anyone, she wants. Where she wants them. When she wants them. How she wants them. See where I'm going here? I've been there. I know the feeling, and I miss it," she chuckled, trying to bring some sort of levity to the entirely depressing turn of the conversation. Giving his shoulder an encouraging squeeze, she slid her hand down to rest on his back before moving on. “And instead of doing what comes naturally to her, she chose to exclude you from that life. She didn't want to drag you into that world, _because_ she genuinely cared about you. That was probably the most selfless thing she's ever done. And yeah, she may have taken that choice away from you, which I know is a huge deal, especially for you, but she thought she was doing right by _you_ for doing it.”

Theron was speechless. He didn't know what to say. He'd replayed that final conversation in his head over and over again, and all he could ever focus on was how she'd turned him down, how she'd taken that choice away from him, and how he'd shut everything else out afterwards. It was like a defense mechanism.

He'd had choices made for him his entire life, and he'd wanted the right to make that decision for himself, even if it was the wrong one.

“You know you're my friend and I'll always have your back. But, have you given any thought to what she might be going through? Right now? You think she just ran you over like a speed bump and didn't look back?”

He sighed, letting out every inch of pain in his gut, then reached again for the datapad. Raz was right. Those pictures. The way she looked in all of them. It was real. The happiness, the comfort, the passion. And then there was the fear. In that last one, the one from the FaceRec file, he'd been able to see the hidden chord of terror in her eyes. And then from one second to the next, he realized that she'd been on her way to their shared room right at that moment, absolutely terrified. Just before she'd broken his heart.

Stars, he _had_ been such a fucking moron.

Pushing back against the will to just curl up into a ball and die from his own stupidity, he forced out a slight nod, giving Raz all the admission she needed. Leave it to Raz to paint a clearer picture for him, with a good smack upside the head. Which was just what he needed. His friend was still more Jedi than she thought, and it peeked through from time to time.

“But I don't care about any of it..." He shrugged his shoulders, wondering which way to go next. "My people. Your people. Empire. Republic. None of that matters in the end.”

“Are you asking me to tell you what to do? Because I can't. You have to make that decision on your own. But, I _can_ tell you what I'd do.”

“Which is?”

Raz sat back and laughed, throaty and low. “Find her, and thrice damn anybody who tries to keep me from getting what I deserve. So very Jedi of me, I know.”

“Well, I certainly won't be finding anything I'm looking for on Tatooine," he mused, managing the slightest nudge of a smile. 

“Who's to say you have to go to Tatooine? Sure, you could be a good little boy and tow the line...or you could follow through on a little tip I've got in the meantime.”

"I'm listening..."

“Have you ever been to Ziost?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if anybody noticed, but there is a nod to greyias on Tumblr in this chapter. I'm not sure if she's read this fic, but either way, I really do love her well-thought out theories and speculations on all the recent expansion content. So, spy princess, I salute you!
> 
> Note on the length of the time Knight is under the Emperor's thrall - I wasn't able to find anything more concrete than "a very long time," so three years it is. ;)
> 
> "Nights in White Satin"  
> The Moody Blues
> 
> Nights in white satin,  
> Never reaching the end,  
> Letters I've written,  
> Never meaning to send.
> 
> Beauty I'd always missed  
> With these eyes before,  
> Just what the truth is  
> I can't say anymore.
> 
> 'Cause I love you,  
> Yes, I love you,  
> Oh, how I love you.
> 
> Gazing at people,  
> Some hand in hand,  
> Just what I'm going through  
> They can't understand.
> 
> Some try to tell me  
> Thoughts they cannot defend,  
> Just what you want to be  
> You will be in the end,
> 
> And I love you,  
> Yes, I love you,  
> Oh, how I love you.  
> Oh, how I love you.
> 
> Nights in white satin,  
> Never reaching the end,  
> Letters I've written,  
> Never meaning to send.
> 
> Beauty I'd always missed  
> With these eyes before,  
> Just what the truth is  
> I can't say anymore.
> 
> 'Cause I love you,  
> Yes, I love you,  
> Oh, how I love you.  
> Oh, how I love you.
> 
> 'Cause I love you,  
> Yes, I love you,  
> Oh, how I love you.  
> Oh, how I love you.


	24. Sharp Dressed Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharp Dressed Men  
> Knives and Bromance  
> A Thing Happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first half of what turned into a very long chapter, so I split it up. The second half should hopefully be up within the next day or so!

Nar Shaddaa, Mezenti Spaceport – Andronikos

One more night. Twelve hours. Seven hundred and twenty minutes and they’d be on their way and it was all Andronikos could think about. He and Nox were leaving for Alderaan in the morning, and he had to stop himself from methodically checking his chrono every few minutes. He’d never considered himself to be a nervous person by nature, quite the opposite in fact, but he couldn’t remember ever having been so excited for something in his life. They’d finished up with Makeb (finally), and he and Nox were going to get their vacation (finally). And kriffing shit, did they need it. 

The twin Imperial Interceptors had touched down on the Smuggler's Moon several hours earlier, after having left Makeb behind under the watchful eye of Marr’s fleet. Which was how the pirate found himself perched upon a stacked pile of shipping crates inside their assigned double-hangar, nearly bouncing with anticipation (on the inside, he had an image to uphold after all).

All that was left to get through was a night of shore leave before they’d be saying their goodbyes to the Wrath and her motley crew, which for Sith usually meant a night of heavy partying and debauchery. That he could handle, no sweat…totally on board…but as far as he was concerned, those goodbyes couldn’t come quick enough.

Andronikos had never particularly cared for the white-skinned Twi’lek, and after Makeb, he had to admit that he was even less fond of her than before. That night he and Nox had spent with her had…not been the best of ideas. And he never regretted any of their sexcapades and one-night stands, except for that one. Some had turned out awkward, or hilariously funny in an infinite number of ways, or even downright violent, but never anything worth an ounce of regret.

Oh sure, he enjoyed himself at the time, he’d have been crazy not to, but some things were probably best left to fantasy. 

The Wrath was gorgeous, strong, and most importantly, she cared about Nox. And he got that, he really did. But, he also couldn’t help the stab of resentment he felt towards her. That it was through her influence that Nox had become so conflicted and confused about _things_ , which had eventually lead to her pushing him away, and the upheaval of what he’d considered to be a pretty damned good life they had together.

He knew he was placing too much blame on the woman, but it-is-what-it-is, as they say. Nox had never been good at feelings, with her past it was understandable, and they’d both coasted along in a haze of adrenaline and pleasure without ever really facing them. Well, he had. He’d known early on that she was it. He’d just assumed, rather foolishly (hindsight was a bitch), that she’d known how he felt all along.

Now they both knew, thanks (but no thanks) to the rather roundabout intervention of one Republic spy…a giant ball of clusterfuckery he was determined _not_ to think about at that particular moment in time. He couldn’t help the nagging feeling in the back of his head that they hadn’t quite seen the last of him, though. But right then all that mattered was Nox. They’d been given a chance to move forward…start over. Do things right this time. Or at least try to.

Fuck, they really needed that vacation. He had so much he wanted to say…to tell her. Show her. He’d even been giving some serious thought t-

A metallic clang rang out from across the hangar bay, drawing his attention. Locating the source of the racket, he saw a group of workers clustered around what appeared to be a tipped hoverlift. Some shouting and several choice expletives echoed throughout the space (he’d have to remember those for future use), followed by a bout of laughter. Heh, at least someone was having fun.

Idly tapping a booted foot against the crate beneath him, he held up his wrist to check his chrono again, stopping himself mid-check. Where were they? Nox never took this long to get ready for their normal date nights. He huffed, probably a little louder than he needed to, and looked to his right, finding _Captain Empire_ engrossed with spinning a knife upon the flat of his open palm.

It was an actual blade, a nice one at that. Andronikos had a healthy appreciation for what some would have considered to be archaic weapons. Knives. Swords. Guns that shot actual projectiles. They had a certain elegance about them. A sort of honesty that said right up front that they were deadly, even when they were sitting idle. They were beautiful, and he wouldn’t have minded adding that particular blade to the little collection he kept under lock and key back in their loft on Dromund Kaas.

He watched the yellowish light of the hangar glint upon the blade as it spun and danced through the man’s large fingers. He was surprisingly quick with it, despite the ham hands. Andronikos supposed that he had to be. Blaster rifles couldn’t be carried everywhere, and that night was one of those occasions. A night out on the town meant no armor, and no open weapons. Well, at least not for them. Lightsabers were another thing entirely, and there was no way he wanted to be the bouncer who would dare try to part a Sith from her life-line.

Even Andronikos had been reduced to a small holdout blaster tucked away at his back, along with a smaller version of Pierce’s blade slipped inside his left boot. He probably could have gotten away with carrying his shoulder holster beneath a jacket, but he knew where Nox wanted to go, and where she wanted to go meant dancing. A jacket would have been too hot and too constricting. And there wasn’t much else you could hide away, while still having easy access, in a fitted dress shirt and leather pants.

He could only imagine (actually, he really didn’t want to imagine) where Pierce could have hidden that blade, considering his ‘HELLO: My Name is _Bouncer_ ’ tee was quite obviously two sizes too small. The man was fucking ginormous. And it wasn't like he was a small guy either. Pierce was just _that_ big. 

“Mind?” Andronikos asked, his gaze still on the blade dancing in the Imperial’s fingers.

“Careful, mate,” the man chuckled. “It’s not a kiddie toy.” He flipped the knife in the air, catching the blade in his grasp and held the hilt out towards the pirate.

“Ha-ha, funny… _twat_...” Taking the proffered weapon from him, a tug of amusement pulled at the corner of his mouth, but before he had a chance to show _Captain Empire_ that he wasn’t the only one who knew his way around up-close-and-personal armaments, he was distracted by the distinct sound of heels at the top of the ship’s ramp.

Finally.

It wasn’t enough heels though. It only sounded like four, and they were waiting on ten. Feet, that is. Five women. He watched the feet turn into legs, and then bodies as they descended, eventually revealing Ashara, with Jaesa in tow.

Ever since their initial blow-out, one that Khem had to split up he’d heard, the two had become practically inseparable. He had to hand it to Nox, it had been a perfect match. It wasn’t the most traditional of Master/Apprentice relationships he’d seen, even less formal than how Nox had worked with Ashara, but it worked. In the short time he’d known the Wrath’s angry little apprentice, Jaesa had become less…hasty in how she dealt with other people. Which was a compliment, considering the pirate it came from.

As soon as the Togruta saw him, she smiled, making a bee line for him where he and Pierce sat on the pile of crates.

“Ladies…” he acknowledged, absentmindedly thumbing the edge of the blade in his hands. He couldn’t help the smile that split his face at the sight of the prickly Togruta. If he could have, he would have winked (that was one thing he really did miss). He was the only one she ever really smiled for. Actually, he used to be the only one. She’d been smiling considerably more than usual as of late.  

She looked great, they both did. Dressed to go out for sure, but not exactly clubbing attire, or what he would have expected two attractive young women to wear to a club. Again, pirate. And a man...his mind _did_ tend to gravitate in a certain direction. There was no part of him that allowed himself to look at her _that_ way, however – it was more along the lines of a niece or a little sister. She’d always be that surly teenage ex-padawan to him. Even though she was only a couple years younger than Nox.

…and he’d just made himself feel old. Wonderful.

“Nikky, we’re gonna go on ahead,” she said. “Maybe catch up with you later?”

“Aww, don’t want to watch me fleece some dupes?” He did his best to put on a dramatically over-the-top pouty face, pooched out lower lip and all.

“No,” she giggled, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. “I don’t need to watch you trying to impress N-…my Master.” There it was. Just when she was about to let out a smidge of familiarity regarding his Sith, she’d always catch herself. It was like she purposefully tried to keep a cool distance between them, even though she’d openly admitted to respecting her Master a great deal, and Nox was the last Sith in the Empire to stand on formality, despite her position.

“I don’t need to gamble to do that…” He waggled his brows at her, adopting a naughty grin that somehow resembled that of a hungry nexu.

“Ew!” She huffed in an overly loud fashion, taking up a position that was meant to shame him into submission. It was one he could picture her using to scold a small child, or a group of mischievous younglings...and it was rather hilarious to see her now using it on him. Like a mischievous youngling. "Stars know I hear enough of it already,” she muttered under her breath, her nose wrinkled up in disgust.

“Oh ouch…!” Andronikos pitched backwards onto one elbow down on the crate, clutching a hand over his heart as if he’d been shot in the chest (again).

Jaesa stifled a snicker next to the Togruta, having witnessed enough of their sniping at each other to know that it was all a show.

After a sufficiently drawn out process of recovering, he sat back up, managing to regain some of his lost dignity. “Well, you’ll be free of us soon enough, girlie…for a while at least.” Come morning, Ashara would be leaving with the Wrath…and Jaesa.

On the one hand, he’d miss his soap serial buddy, but on the other, he couldn’t wait for some extra quality time with Nox. There’d still be Talos and Khem of course, but Talos kept himself buried in his research, and Khem was…Khem. That was a package deal, he’d been well aware of that when he’d signed on. Wherever Nox happened to be, the Dashade was never far.

“She’ll just be trading one for another,” Jaesa added, nudging a shoulder against the Togruta’s arm. “But _he’s_ the loud one.” She flicked an accusatory chin towards Pierce, failing quite miserably to keep a straight face.

“Hey now!” Pierce half-shouted in response, throwing in a sharp elbow jab towards the pirate’s ribs beside him when Andronikos barked out a snurfled bout of laughter at his expense. He knew all too well about _Captain Empire’s_ inability to stay quiet under pressure…he’d had a front row seat for one such debacle, and it wasn’t by choice.

Holding himself back from visibly wincing, the pirate rubbed at his side where the Imperial had landed his potshot. The man really hadn’t been holding back. Then again, Andronikos never did either. There wasn’t anything wrong with a healthy little pissing contest, after all. Chest beating and such.

And it seemed that Pierce held no grudges regarding certain _goings on_. Oh, he’d seen the look. What man wouldn’t have been curious? Andronikos couldn’t hold it against him, though it wouldn’t have been the first time he noted, quite thankfully, that the burly Imperial so was not his girl’s type. Too tall. Too wide. Too…Imperial.

Andronikos may have been able to stop himself from wincing at the ache in his ribs, but he wasn’t able to hold back the smug little grin that appeared on his face. Heh, fucker.

Really, he genuinely did like the guy, which was a rare enough thing for him. He just liked feeling like he was ahead in the game.

“ _Anyways_ ,” Andronikos spoke up, throwing some serious side-eye in Pierce’s direction before turning his gaze to the two young women in front of them, “You two have fun at your rom-com or whatever it is you’re up to.”

“Oh no, I’m dragging her to the latest horror flick…” Jaesa giggled, which somehow managed to be almost creepy, but whatever…and started to move the Togruta off with a hand at her lower back.

Wait-wait-wait…was Ashara actually blushing? Yes, yes, she most definitely was.

“Hey, don’t forget!” He twisted around in place, hoping he got their attention before they’d gotten too far away. “Club Ufora. Red Light Sector.”

“Riiiight, the seediest place on all of Nar Shaddaa,” Ashara called back. “Are your shots up to date?”

“Heh, you know she likes to try and blend in…”

“Yeah, yeah…I got it,” she responded, spinning on her heels to catch up with Jaesa who was looking rather impatient a few feet ahead of her. “Catch ya later, Nikki.”

Andronikos shifted back into a comfortable position on the crate, turning his attention back to the knife that was still in his hands. He flipped it in the air, catching it by the hilt, testing the grip.

Pierce chuckled at his side, watching the pirate test the blade’s weight as he went through the same spinning and flipping dance movements he’d seen the Imperial perform only a few minutes prior. “You know, last time we set down here, crazy kid got us wrapped up with one hell of a pissed off Hutt. Hey, that’s not bad,” he acknowledged, pointing his chin towards the knife.

“They’ll be fine.”

Letting his pace naturally quicken, Andronikos allowed his mind drift with the blade. The perfect balance. The way the light bounced and shifted on the smooth metal depending on the angle. It was relaxing. No wonder _Captain Empire_ always seemed to have something sharp in his mitts every time they were stuck sitting idle.

His thoughts landed on the idea of how Nox generally avoided the more upscale establishments the planet had to offer, the ones that would have staff specifically set aside to recognize VIP clientele. They’d bend over backwards for her, catering to her every need, attracting unwanted attention…and she hated it. She just wanted to be treated like everybody else when they went out, which was to say pretty much like garbage. Common rabble. It was one of the things he loved about her.

“Hate to break it to you, mate…” He felt a less sharp nudge to his shoulder, catching his attention. “But they’re not blending in anywhere…”

“Huh?” He looked up…and almost dropped the blade to the duracrete floor. He’d been so engrossed in what he was doing, he hadn’t even heard their stragglers descend the ship’s ramp. And there weren’t any words to put to what he saw, but the sudden realization that his pants felt tighter than he remembered said enough.

Now _that_ was proper club attire.

His Sith was wearing one of his favorite dresses, one he’d bought her just before…well, before all their _issues_ started. Black. Tight. Short. Plunging neckline. Just enough side-boob. (Hey, he _did_ buy it after all.) Sky high heels. And kriffing shit, those fucking legs of hers. Toned and long and lean and-

She looked good enough to eat, and all he wanted right at that moment was to do just that. No, no…later. LATER.

He loved seeing her in things he’d bought for her, and she knew it. It drove him crazy. And he loved buying her stuff, because she rarely bought anything for herself. Clothes. Art. Actual physical books (which were getting harder and harder to find). She wasn’t into jewelry so much, which was practical, and he’d learned early on that instead of sexy little negligees, she’d rather sleep in a ratty shirt, preferably one of his. Or in nothing at all, which was fine (more than fine).

“I told you, Kira, I’m not leaving it behind…” Nox practically growled, holding up her lightsaber hilt as she stormed ahead of the pair of Twi’leks, as quickly as he imagined a woman could ‘storm’ in those heels. She seemed annoyed. Really annoyed. He’d been too busy just looking at her to catch the start of whatever argument they’d been having. It was about her lightsaber, he could tell that much. She _had_ grown more attached to it ever since that incident on Makeb. In the past, she’d never taken issue with leaving it behind when they went out because she knew he always carried.

The Wrath huffed, all pale ferocity, and pushed (more like shoved) past Nox, almost stomping right up to Pierce, where she made a grand demonstration of handing her own lightsaber hilt to him. And of course, he reached out and took it like he’d done it a hundred times before. He probably had.

Snapping her hip out to the side, the Twi’lek turned back towards the other woman, arcing a tattooed brow at her as if it should have been a stupidly obvious solution. Well this was an interesting turn of events.

Andronikos watched his Sith’s expression change as the meaning of the exchange dawned on her, and the significance of it. He’d never held her lightsaber before, and he had no idea how she’d react to what the Wrath was suggesting.

Was it something he wanted to do for her? Oh, hell fucking yes. This was a turning point. Definitely-A-Thing. And he couldn’t help the little flutter in his chest, or the involuntary intake of breath he held in his lungs as he waited to see what she’d do. 

He knew everybody was watching them. Pierce. The Wrath. _Blue_. But they all fell away as Nox locked eyes with him. They were completely alone. Her expression was uncertain at first, until it seemed that a switch had flipped, or a light had gone on in her head somewhere. The uncertainty melted away with a curl of a smile at her lip as she closed the distance between them, holding the saberstaff hilt out to him with decided determination.

That was her life-line. And she was putting it in his hands.

Attempting to be as nonchalant about it as possible, he slowly released the breath he’d been keeping in and reached out to accept the proffered weapon. Just as his fingers wrapped around the cool metal, he saw her lips move to mouth a silent confirmation, one meant for him alone. Three little words he never thought he’d want to hear (or see in this case). From anybody. But ever since they’d said it, six years into their relationship, he’d been kicking himself for not saying it sooner.

The saberstaff was heavier than it looked. By a long shot. He turned the hilt over in his hands, studying the ornate red scroll-work etched into the silver metal. It was beautiful. Strong yet delicate. And a vastly different kind of deadly from the guns and knives he collected.   

“We married now?” he asked, his face cracking into a full-on grin as he got to his feet. It was a joke, and he’d said it to diffuse the tension that had suddenly crept up out of nowhere, which could have entirely been in his head. But again, the whole exchange did hold a certain level of importance.

Nox let out an amused little breath through her nose, letting him know that the jest was received and indeed appreciated. He noticed that the last of the faint almost-healed bruises on her face and body had been covered with what must have been some industrial-strength concealer. Thankfully. He didn’t need anybody thinking he’d done that damage. Fuck, if he ever hurt her…or saw someone hurt her…

He heard the distinct sound of a feminine throat being cleared somewhere behind Nox, shooting him back to the cargo bay and away from the little private bubble they’d been in. _Blue_.

“Alright, alright…let’s get out of here,” he announced, clipping the saberstaff hilt to the belt at his hip. Definitely heavier than it looked.

“Finally! We are so gonna clean house at the tables tonight!” The little blue Twi’lek was virtually bouncing on the balls of her feet. No, strike that…she was. Andronikos had to shake his head as he took in what she was wearing because it was the last thing he'd have expected to see her in. She really was in-it-to-win-it, it seemed. All business. Heels. Sleek black trousers. And yet another plunging neckline, this time in the form of a sleeveless vest. She’d likely be glued to the sabacc tables all night. And knowing her, she’d make a killing.

Pierce hopped down off the crates, casually slipping his knife back into a sheath hidden on the inside of his belt, then moved on with the overt production of straightening the ridiculously tight charcoal-colored tee that looked like it was going to pop a seam around his biceps. He clipped the Wrath’s shorter (and plainer) saber hilt to his hip, automatically shifting his look from bouncer to an almost-convincing Force-user (considering they were outside of Imperial space). The image would never hold up to anybody who had been exposed to Sith (or Jedi), but even so, it was interesting. That alone could certainly come in handy at a club where the rabble would be pawing all over them.

Andronikos had to imagine that the man was going to have his work cut out for him either way. There indeed was nothing about the Wrath that could ever blend in. From the skin-tight leather pants, she had to have poured herself into, to the small triangle of shimmery dark purple fabric that covered her breasts, held in place by a dainty little chain across her back, to the strappy headdress she wore, woven down either lek. The organic krak’yja-like striping was in full view running down her arms, her torso, and either side of her spine, setting her even further apart from mere mortals.

Good luck to him. No, thank you.

The pirate turned his attention back to his own Sith, his much more _blendable_ Sith. “Looking good, babe,” he chuckled, holding out a hand to her, letting his gaze rove over her newly short-cropped hair that had been spiked up into what resembled the shape of a fake mohawk. It was cute, and edgy, and downright sexy. He thought he would have preferred the long hair, but no. She totally owned it. Somehow, it made her look that much more dangerous and formidable. And hot. In the light, it shone an almost blood-red, closely matching the color of his own shirt.

“You clean up nice…for a scruffy pirate...” A perfectly shaped brow arched playfully, waiting for a response. She knew full well that he took pride in his appearance. She flashed him a genuine smile, that little quirk she always had at the corner of her lip never failing to send his already dirty thoughts into overdrive.  

Feeling her small hand slip comfortably into his, he turned, pulling her with him towards the elevator at the other end of the hanger bay. It had been a very long time since they’d been able to just kick back and be a couple. For anybody to see. And right then, he was sitting on top of the world. 


	25. Pour Some Sugar on Me (Purple Lamborghini)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first rule of Date Night is....
> 
> Card Hustling  
> Sandwich Dancing  
> Phone Shenanig...ing?  
> Fun All Around  
> Till It's Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features an AU cameo by [Tashlen's ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8926756/chapters/20448175) (@cavalier-life on Tumblr) character, Lyorek. If you don't know his character...go read her fic...DO IT.
> 
> This chapter is looooong. Sorry! Not sorry!

Nar Shaddaa, Club Ufora - Andronikos

Andronikos always managed to lose track of time when he was playing sabacc, and he counted on his wingman to keep him on point. Nox knew his love for the game, and that he was quite good at it (he’d made a lot of money for them on the side, not that they needed it), but he knew that she only had so much patience to stay put when things got dragged out. He was all about the quick kills. Get in, take every last credit, and then get out, leaving them open to move on to more important endeavors, such as drunken brawls, dirty dancing, and the ultimate end to a night out on the town – a good, solid fuck…in pretty much any which way one could venture to define the word.  

He could hear the muffled beat of the club’s music reaching them through the smoky haze of the back room where a group of riff-raff sat around a rickety old sabacc table. Low-tech. Real cards. High stakes…and tension that could be cut with a knife. Just how he liked it. Games like this didn’t happen in more _upscale_ establishments. And having Nox at his side made it all the better. On date nights, she wasn’t a Darth, or a Dark Councilor, she was just Nox, _his girl,_ the woman he’d do anything or kill anybody for.

She could have gone off and found someone else to dance with when the group had first arrived at the club (the Wrath and _Captain Empire_ were already out there), but she hadn’t. Every once in a while, he’d feel a reassuring squeeze at his shoulder or a pair of knuckles grazing trails down the top of his spine, reminding him of her presence. Not that the wandering eyes around the table could let him forget. She, and that flawless side-boob of hers…they were the perfect distraction.

Oh sure, if things were to get out of hand, the rabble would find out rather quickly, and quite literally, what she was. But he was pretty confident it wouldn’t come down to that. As far as the smugglers, pirates, and other various fine examples of the dregs of society sitting around the table were concerned, he was just some tale-slinging schlep who was lucky enough to steal a lightsaber. And she was just his arm candy. The game was one they’d played many times before, the presence of her lightsaber at his hip was just a welcome new addition to the ruse.

The only impervious set of eyes in the bunch belonged to _Blue_ , who sat to his left, on his blind side. He didn’t need to watch her. She _was_ the reason for the lagged out match, though. If she hadn’t of been there, the hustle would have been over quickly. In her, he’d met his equal in the game, and after the first few rematches they’d had on Makeb, along with the stalemate they had during the short jump to the Smuggler’s Moon, she’d finally acknowledged his skill.

A crowd had steadily been gathering around the table as the game drew along. His eyes passed over numerous species - Human, Houk, including the one occupying space in what must have been a very unhappily strained seat across from him, a few Mirialan and Twi’lek, even a pair of well-dressed Chiss that appeared to be extremely bored. And then they landed on a single red-skinned Zabrak at the back of the crowd, watching the proceedings with an oddly amused quirk tugging at the corner of his lip.

Andronikos normally wouldn’t have spared a second glance at some random guy watching a round of sabacc, but there was something about him, about the way he seemed to be more watching them, him and Nox, than the actual game. As if he was curious to see what they would do…her in particular. Not to mention the fact that the moment he looked away and back again, the man was gone. Nox didn’t give him any cues like she normally would have if she were to sense any forthcoming shenanigans, but it still struck him as odd.

Either way, he felt that it was time to make a graceful exit. His head wasn’t in it anymore and Nox would be more than thrilled to get his ass out on the dance floor…that and they’d be closer to Pierce and _Wrath Incarnate_ …just in case.

“Alright, I’m cashing out,” he announced, pushing his seat out behind him as he got to his feet to a round of relieved sighs and half-shouts that he was finally giving up and leaving some credits on the table. Grabbing hold of Nox’s hand behind him, he waited until he heard the oh-so-sweet beep of confirmed credits coming from the chrono at his wrist before nodding his leave to the rest of the table. “My girl wants to dance…” he explained, his face cocked into an expression that was one-part cool confidence and three-parts smug asshole. “Go easy on ‘em, _Blue_.” She most definitely wouldn’t. Dupes.

Wrinkling his nose at the smell of the wafting smoke that had settled in the air right at about eye-level, he tugged Nox along behind him, wasting no time in pushing his way out of the back room and into the thrumming darkened beat of the much larger dance theater. He tried not to pretend that he wasn’t checking faces and shadowed nooks and crannies for their mysterious voyeur. Ogler. Peeper. Thing.

Eh, whatever. Maybe he was just overreacting. He could blame the unfamiliar weight of the saberstaff hilt swinging at his hip. Yeah, that was it.

The dance theater portion of the club was packed. From rebellious youths looking for trouble, to snobby nobles looking to slum it up, to locals just looking to kick back, the floor was a sea of bodies of all shapes and sizes. And scattered throughout the space, almost like islands rising out of the chaos, were platforms occupied by a mélange of scantily clad club entertainers shimmying and shaking their natural, or maybe not so natural born gifts safely above the crowd.

He saw a few Twi’lek and Human dancers, which was not surprising in the least, a Nautolan shaking it with a Cathar…and then his eye landed on one hell of a gorgeous Mirialan with almost gold-colored skin. Soft. Curvy. Long black hair. A trio of diamond-shaped tattoos outlining the cut of her chin. Delicate but still with a sharpened edge that said she knew people wanted her. Wow. He may or may not have had a bit of a thing for Mirialans.

Hey, he loved Nox, and any asshole who doubted that could just crawl into a hole and die. She was it for him, but that didn’t mean he stopped looking. He did have eyes…eye. And it wasn’t like she didn’t look either. They were both secure enough in that respect, which he thought spoke volumes about the strength of their relationship. Most of his past flings…okay, more like all…of his past flings had ended when the girl got all weird and possessive, as if he’d ever kept it a secret that he wasn’t the settling sort.

But then he met a certain unconventional Sith Lord, and all that changed. He’d found that the idea of settling down wasn’t so suffocating anymore, probably because he’d met his match in every way. That they could be together and share their lives with each other, but still be themselves. With her, he didn’t feel the need to run or to wander…they could tackle life, and _everything_ it had to offer, together. How fucking awesome was that?

And it _had been_ completely awesome…in practice and in theory, but he still couldn’t forget everything that had happened over the course of the past year, leading up to one of the worst days of his life, the day he thought she’d been taken from him for good. All the confusion and yes, not just a little bit of anger he’d been saddled with over the roadblock that was The Great Spy Cluster-of-Fuckery.

It was never about her screwing another guy, let’s put that one to bed right now. It wasn’t really even about her having feelings for another guy (well, okay _yeah_ …maybe a little). It was mostly about the lack of trust on her part, that she’d kept it from him for…why? Like he wouldn’t get it? Like their relationship had ever been anything but conventional? That they couldn’t face anything together if she’d have jus-

Shit! How the fuck had he let himself get onboard the Doom Train? No, he so was _not_ going to let it vomit all over their date night. She was there, and their relationship had reached and passed a giant turning point. The symbolism of what it had meant for her to hand over that lightsaber for his safekeeping had not been lost on him. If he’d had any doubts about fully being let in before, he sure didn’t have them anymore. They were moving forward. Yes, they both had shit they had to sift through. But all they needed was time.

Staring forward into the cacophony of blurred figures, he scrunched his eye shut, forcing his mind to divert to the physical present. The sensation of her hand in his, the hot dancer…more hot dancer…the sight of Nox in that little black dress…Nox in that little black dress _with_ the hot dancer…well alright then! And just like that, his mood had been salvaged. Whew.

He felt her hand squeeze lightly, drawing his attention with a point of an index finger to a less crowded corner of the floor. Significantly less crowded. Pierce and the Wrath occupied the space as if they owned it, and the sea around them had simply fallen away into wary, side-eyed submission.

They were totally being _that_ couple. The couple nobody would dare go near, but everybody wanted to watch. And surprisingly, _Captain Empire_ could dance, for all his size. In the dimmed light, a huge hand splayed out over the Twi’lek’s pale stomach, grinding her body against his to the thrumming beat of the house techno that was spilling from the speakers overhead. It was the first time Andronikos had seen the Imperial appear completely at ease around the imposing might of the Wrath…well, besides… _ya know_. Almost as if he was in charge for once. Apparently, he and Nox weren’t the only ones on a date night, then.

Well, two could play at that game.

He forged ahead into the invisible neutral zone that had been created around the other couple and pivoted on the balls of his feet back towards Nox, yanking her into his chest to the welcome sound of a surprised little mewl. “Hey there, beautiful…” he said, giving her his best signature man-purr. He slid his hands down the curve of her sides, guiding her body as he started to find the beat with her, but at a slower, more sensual pace.

Watching the side of her mouth curl around the dirty thoughts that were sure to be running through her head, he felt a shiver run down his spine as she trailed a fingertip down over his lips, top to bottom. “See anything you like?” she asked, her eyes flicking ever so slightly towards the very same dancer he had much seen and appreciated. She moved her body against his, inclining her head until her lips grazed at his ear. “I think it’s your turn tonight… _diddums_.”

That word. That fucking word. If ever there was a time where he wanted to just bite right into her ass…and she loved every moment of it. Since that day on Makeb, she’d been dropping it here and there, just at the right time, because she knew it would raise his ire. He’d done it to himself, completely aware that she’d run with it. The games they played…

He groaned, low in his throat, digging his fingers through the slippery dark fabric and into the fleshy part of her body he wanted to gnaw on in the worst of ways. “I just won us a shitload of credits…I’m feeling generous.”

“Are you quite sure, _darling_?” She let the rarely spoken pet name draw out around her hoity-toity little accent, knowing damn well that the lopsided crook to her lip…just the sight of her tongue hitting the roof of her mouth in _that_ way, were both enough to drive him crazy.

She sounded like such a bitch half the time, but fucking hell, was it hot.

Spinning in place, she began to grind the object of his momentary fixation right where it counted. “I think she likes you,” she laughed, tilting her chin towards the golden-skinned woman, who was, indeed, watching them from her perch above the crowd. The Mirialan seemed to be almost mirroring Nox’s movements against her own partner.

“And how do you know she isn’t looking at you? Hmmm?” He forced his hands to slide back up over her hips, splaying a set of fingers over her taut abdomen in the same move he’d just seen _Captain Empire_ execute. “Tell ya what…” he offered, dipping his head so that he could breathe his words into the side of her neck. “We get to Alderaan and I’ll treat you to dinner…with my choice for dessert.”

“Deal.”

They danced in silence for a time, letting the beat take them, directing the shift of the crowd around them…the flow of her body against his. He felt her hand slide over the one he’d set upon her stomach, the other reaching up to pull at the back of his neck, tugging his lips to brush against hers…

And just like that, he heard a little giggle, and she spun again in place to face him. “I’ll be right back…” She pushed him away, capturing her lower lip between her teeth in a way that was the very definition of imp-up-to-no-good (which was always good).

He watched her swagger and sway away from him, right toward the nearest platform of club dancers…and the Mirialan. There was a momentary exchange, the woman hopped down from her perch, and he saw Nox produce a credit chip from _somewhere_ and hand it over. (Really, where the hell had she hidden that?) Even from that distance, he could see the smile on her face before the dancer trotted away, melting into the crowd. Up to no good indeed.

Returning to his side, she winked up at him, directing him backwards with a palm flattened against his chest towards a nearby alcove of padded benches. Heh, he knew exactly where this was going.

“Fuck, I love you, baby…” he half-growled, just as his ass hit the worn velour seat covering.

“Relax, tiger.” Her soft laughter was an attempt at brushing off his statement, but the telling light in her eyes said something completely different, more along the lines of her being certain of it this time. Good. “It’s just a little lap dance.” She trailed a thumb and forefinger down the inside seam of one of his thighs, pushing herself off him from the knee.  

It was never _just_ a lap dance. How could it be? It was a lap dance _his_ _girl_ had bought him. _That’s right, all you fuckers. Eat your hearts out._

For a few minutes he sat there, sprawled out like a cat and entirely too proud of himself, contemplating exactly what he wanted to do to that little red-headed she-devil of his…and that strip of tight black fabric that passed as a dress. He could always buy her another. At the moment, he could see nothing but those swinging and swaying hips, every bit as much his downfall now as they had been six years ago on that dusty shit-hole called Tatooine.

The second he heard the music change, he knew it was hers. One of her favorites. She always picked one from that rather eclectic ever-growing list of hers. It would never have made the playlist at a dance club. It was dated, a classic some would say, and it had more of a hard rock edge than a defined repeating beat that was easy to gyrate to. But damn her, it was perfect.

And with the music, he felt a pair of fingertips lightly trail across his shoulders and down the arm that he’d rested across the back of the bench where he lounged. Following the more aggressive nature of the song, the Mirialan vaulted herself over the back of the couch and landed on the seat, straddling one of his knees.

“Hi there,” she smiled down at him, running her hands through a mass of loose, flowing black hair as she towered over him. “Your um…wife mentioned that you might enjoy spending a little time with me…” Sliding the tip of an index finger down over the side of his cheek, she sounded almost intrigued by the prospect. Either that or completely weirded out by it. It really couldn’t have been _that_ odd.  

“And your name is…?” He returned the grin, making sure his hands were quite obviously out in the open and away from her. He may have been a murdering scoundrel, but he still knew how to handle himself around women, even ones who were being paid to dance for him, and he would not be touching her unless she told him to.

She arched her back towards him, supporting herself with her hands on his shoulders, bringing a rather ample amount of barely contained cleavage to within nose-distance as her body began to flow against him in time to the rocky beat. “Candy...”

“Uh-huh,” he replied, not even bothering to try and hide his lack of surprise. Her voice was soft and overtly feminine, but it also had a sharpness buried beneath all the syrupy sweetness. Andronikos liked that edge, it was the same one he’d seen when he was watching her dance from her perch, and he couldn’t even hazard a guess as to where she was from based on her accent alone. One of the Core worlds most likely.

“Numha.”

“Better…” he chuckled. He also decided right then and there that he wasn’t going to correct her teensy-weensy little assumption. It wasn’t the first time someone had drawn that conclusion…it was just the first time he consciously chose to let it ride.

The golden curves slithered and slid in front of him, almost like waves. And with each pass to and fro, his gaze would land on Nox. He was completely divided. The little minx had positioned herself at just the right angle where he would undoubtedly see her in his periphery, occupying her own space as the beat ran through her body. He smiled, chuckling to himself. She liked to watch every bit as much as he did.

Bringing his focus back to the dancer in his lap, his eye caught something shiny, and he noticed that her shoulders, abs, and thighs had been accented with brushed strips of shimmery gold paint, highlighting the color of her skin against the flashing pinks and blues of the club lights.

“So, your wife’s Imperial…” It wasn’t exactly a question, more like a statement, not that it wasn’t completely obvious that Nox was, indeed, Imperial.

“That she is.”

“And you’re not.” At his grunted response, she slid her hands over his, pulling them to rest on her hips as she ratcheted herself higher into his lap. “Most usually stick to the clubs by the spaceport.”

“Fuckin’ snobs, the lot of ‘em,” he laughed, proud of his joke (half-joke).

He felt a puff of breath against his neck and she appeared to visibly relax, releasing his hands to rove up her sides a bit. His fingers passed over nothing but smooth, silky skin. None of the rough dips and ridges that he’d mapped and memorized by heart over hard-fought years. 

“I’m Nik, by the way. That…” He shifted his head to the side so that he could see around Numha’s shoulder. “That…is Nox.”

Following his gaze, she twisted around in his lap to face away from him, supporting herself on fists propped up on either side of his thighs. “Nik, huh?” she asked to the air, arching her back against his chest so that her ass brushed up against his crotch with each circular movement. “…and Nox…sounds like a holo-series.”

“Heh, might as well be.” He let his grip on her stay tame, leaving his hands in the zone she’d approved. He didn’t need it spelled out for him, it wasn’t exactly hard to figure on his own. A lap dance wasn’t a difficult concept, and it wasn’t like he was a teenager. Besides, the song was nearing its end. He’d heard it blasted in his ear enough times to know it well enough.

“You’re alright, Nik,” she stated, as if she’d finally come to a decision about it. Scrabbling down off his lap, she ran a hand over his shirt, right where the first couple buttons had been left undone above his chest. “Your wife though…she scares the crap out of me.”

He laughed, unable to help the snuffle that broke through his smile. “Bark’s worse than her bite.” That may have been a bit of a less-than-truth, but for the most part, it was the truth. Sometimes. Most of the time. Sometimes. “Numha…it really is a pretty name. Have a nice evening...”

Offering up a tight smile, she waved a quick goodbye, melting back into the crowd. That had been…a tad awkward.

Andronikos had gotten the impression that Numha had been interested the moment she saw them on the dance floor…until Nox opened her mouth. He’d seen the look, it wasn’t hard to miss. There was a difference between fake interest and genuine interest, and if she’d been faking it, the lap dance would have gone a completely different direction.

Invariably, some people would want him. Some would want her. But on date night, they were a package deal, which if he was being honest, was how he preferred it anyways. And it wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last time that his girl’s accent would scare someone off…outside of Imperial space, that is.

No matter…that meant more for him anyways.

Dusting at the leather creases that had formed under Numha’s weight on his thighs, Andronikos turned his attention back to Nox, now shaking it to a much more club-oriented beat. He was about to get up and go to her when he saw him. The same Zabrak from before. And this time, she saw him too.

He was out in the open, lounging against a wall in plain sight, watching her dance from the sidelines with the same curious quirk to his lip as before. Dressed all in black, bared muscles rippled against arms that were bent at the elbow, folded neatly across his chest. Every inch of exposed skin was covered in a scrolling amalgam of dark tattoos, standing out in stark contrast to the rich, darkened red of his hide. The man carried himself with an air of casual certainty, relaxed yet tightly wound, ready for quick movement. There was no mistaking it. Sith.

But even so, Nox kept on dancing, appearing to not have a care in the galaxy. Her hands slid up her sides to outline the curve of her breasts, then went up over her head to reach to the ceiling, emphasizing the arch of her back. She twisted and writhed to the sound of the music, her movements almost serpentine in nature.

Andronikos knew the move all too well. The way she inclined her head, exposing her neck, her eyes sliding shut in concentration only to crack open seconds later to make sure she was still being watched. As if that wouldn’t have been the case. Ever. It was like ringing the dinner bell.

She was playing with him. Both of them.

And at any other time Andronikos would have already been fighting with himself, trying to just soak up the view like a boss and be that smug asshole who got off on knowing he had something someone else wanted, when in reality he would have slowly been turning into a pile of goo on the inside… _because_ he was that smug asshole who got off on knowing he had something someone else wanted. But…Sith. Why did it have to be a Sith?

Sparing a glance over to the Wrath and Pierce, he saw that the couple had both practically stopped their own private party and were quite obviously waiting for the word. Any word. The tension was palpable, and the rest of the patrons had no fucking clue. They were completely oblivious, going on with their little lives as if there wasn’t the very real possibility of some serious shit going down around them. This was only going to end in one of two ways.

Andronikos watched the Sith’s glittering red eyes take in everything, flicking between Nox and the Wrath…then to him. To the untrained eye, the man would have appeared disinterested, half-heartedly examining the nails on one hand, but the pirate knew he was anything but. He was biding his time, assessing and weighing the situation, carefully planning out each and every move. Waiting to pounce.

And before long, the move had been made. With a slight shrug of the shoulder, the Sith pushed himself away from the wall with a booted foot and began a swaggering stroll towards the dance floor…and Nox. His pace was deliberate and graceful at the same time, like a wary predator, but a predator nonetheless. A dark saberstaff hilt swung at his hip with each stride, nearly hidden between the folds of his loose-fitted silky black trousers.

He could barely hear the music anymore, muffled in the background. Time seemed to have slowed down as he watched the Zabrak’s approach, and the only thing he was sure of was the bite of Nox’s lightsaber hilt digging into the palm of his hand where he gripped it, waiting to move should she need it. He didn’t miss that the man kept himself out in the open, in full view of the other two Sith. And he also didn’t miss the hand that Nox had held out against her side, palm out, fingers spread wide in signal to the Wrath to wait.

Yet she still continued to dance.

Reaching her, the Sith presented himself in what most would have considered to be a non-threatening manner, while still not appearing submissive in any way, shape, or form. One tension-filled second rolled into the next. He whispered something to her, and whatever it was he’d said, which included a side-eyed grin in the pirate’s general direction, she laughed, throwing her head back as she ran a flirtatious hand down the side of his neck.

Andronikos felt himself force down a gulping swallow. His stomach was in knots. But then she gave him the sign he was looking for. Just as the Sith wrapped an arm around her midsection, pulling her in close as he matched her rolling movements with his own, she locked eyes with him over the man’s shoulder, mouthing the all-clear he desperately needed. And just like that, they were dancing, the tension lifting as quickly as it had appeared.

He may have been about as sensitive as a dung heap when it came to the Force, but he still knew how it worked. They could sense strength. Sith never stopped eyeing each other up. Measuring and constantly looking for signs of weakness. He knew his girl was strong. Even if the Zabrak didn’t recognize her by appearance alone, he would have been able to sense that. Not to mention there was no way he couldn’t have recognized the white-skinned Twi’lek only a short distance away. The one who had been making murder eyes in his direction only seconds ago.  

Letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in, the pirate relaxed back against the back of the couch, releasing his death-grip on the lightsaber hilt. He always got antsy when she was around an unrecognized Sith, because there was no straightforward way of knowing what sort of Sith they were dealing with. And yeah, some of them were off-the-wall, certifiably fucking nuts.  

With that business over, he was able to go back to playing that smug asshole who liked to watch (for now), which was exactly what he wanted to be on their date nights. Bar fights were fine (and fun). Sithy kerfuffles were not. Rule number one of Date Night was that Sith Shit got checked at the door. They dealt with that enough on a day to day basis.

He did have to laugh, though. Sith were like ill-tempered tooka cats. If two happened to meet in a narrow alleyway, the encounter was more than likely either going to end up with shredded ears and fur flying everywhere, or with a lot of really loud, really screechy fucking.

Apparently, this time it appeared to be the latter scenario. It seemed like this guy just wanted to have a good time, and he could find no fault in that. Game on.

Sprawling back out on his couch, he heard the thrumming bass shift again, getting low, infectious…the perfect beat to grind to. He smiled to himself, watching Nox circle around the other Sith, bringing herself into a position where Andronikos could see everything. She knew the move. Game on indeed.

At her back, he continued to whisper in her ear, that playful grin returning in full as a red hand dug into her waist. _Pounce-a-Lot_ was every bit her type, which the pirate figured was the reason she’d allowed the approach in the first place. There was no doubt that he was a smooth operator, and that was like catnip for her without even putting looks into the equation. But beyond that, the man was muscular and lean…athletic, more athletic than he was, if he was being honest (hey, no shame). It was the sort of body one developed from lots of hands-on use of a saberstaff, and close-quarters combat. He knew the tattoos didn’t hurt either.

Was this the part where he was supposed to get all bent out of shape because some other guy had his mitts all over her? Fuck no…why? Have we been listening at all?

Seeing her like that, the liquid flow of her body moving in time with someone she found attractive, taking pleasure in the simple act of being desired…the way she’d worry at the side of her lower lip just as her gaze drifted across the floor to him…it drove him absolutely out-the-door batshit crazy. Both on and off the dance floor.

This wasn’t about her being with someone else, or even him for that matter…it was about them taking the galaxy by the throat…together. Hell. Fucking. Yeah.

And just to prove his point, her chin went up, exposing her throat again as her hands reached for the ceiling. Red fingers followed, tracing out the curvature of her neck, over her shoulder and down, outlining her waist, the round cut of her hip. Letting her arms fall, she leaned into the touch, tracing an index finger over the Sith’s smooth, tattooed cheekbone, guiding his jaw in close on the way down.

She was giving him all the cue he needed – and he took the hint.

Andronikos saw the glint of a predatory smile as the man dipped his head to bury his face in the crook of her neck, his eyes sliding shut momentarily as if he was contemplating taking things one step further and upping the ante. But when they opened again, they weren’t on her neck or on her bared shoulder or even anywhere on her…they’d moved across the empty span of dance floor space to where the pirate reclined back on his couch, still waiting for just the right time to make his move.

His gaze was unwavering, watching for a reaction as a hand moved to slide atop hers where it rested at her side. He began walking them together, inch by gradual inch around to the front of her thigh, right above the bottom hem of her dress, his gold-shot red eyes always weighing and measuring. For anyone on the outside looking in, it might have appeared to be a stare-down, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth.  _Pounce_ had played the game before.

The shimmery black material bunched up in her grasp, exposing even more of her thigh under the Sith’s directing fingers. Another couple of inches and Andronikos would have been seeing the teensy slip of black lace not-quite-underwear he already knew she was wearing. That she so would not be wearing later.

Which is what he kept telling himself, repeating the word over and over in his head like a chant.

The pirate forced his gaze upwards, finding her worrying again at her lower lip, her face tilting to the side just enough for their mouths to barely graze past one another as their bodies moved together to the overhead rhythm. Then her eyes swept across the distance and-

Yup. It was time. Andronikos always only ever had the willpower to watch from the sidelines for so long before tapping in and that had clearly been an invite. Or a dare. Either one was fine.

Making an overt display of rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to the tops of his forearms, he practically oozed himself to his feet, going out of his way to appear as calm and collected as possible. He was the boss here. He was the one in charge.

The beat was pounding in his ears, the fluorescent-colored club lights flashed from every which way, but all he could see was her. His pace started out slow, picking up speed and severity with each step closer to his intended target. By the time he reached her, it was a full-out storm. His hands came up, cupping at either side of her face to pull her lips to his, allowing him to translate all of his delicious pent-up frustrations to her in a way that most likely turned more than a few nearby heads around them.

And for the moment, it didn’t matter that another man happened to be glued to her back, nuzzling his nose into the space behind her ear. This kiss was for them. The chips would fall wherever they decided to fall for the rest.

“So nice of you to finally join us,” a silky masculine voice purred from mere inches away. Any further and he would have been hard-pressed to make out exactly what had been said. “I was beginning to wonder how long you could hold out.” Silky indeed…but deadly. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the sight of panties dropping everywhere just from the sound of that voice. (Hey, he wasn’t insecure. He could say it.)

“Nik, this is Lyorek.” She sounded slightly out of breath, and this close he could see the gold band ringing the center of each darkened emerald iris.

He let his hands fall away and slide down her arms, giving an almost imperceptible nod to the man as Nox inclined her head back towards the tattooed jaw over her shoulder. From here on out, she’d be paying equal attention to them both. It was only fair. And it should have been pretty obvious, then, that they were well past the awkward handshake stage.

“ _You_ may call me anything you wish,” he laughed, his lips curling around a rather feline grin. “…or Lyo. Whichever you prefer. I’ve been watching the two of you all night. Intriguing.”

“Is that so?” the pirate asked, a certain level of curiosity slipping into his tone. His mind was brought back to the sabacc game from earlier and wondered just how long _Pounce-a-Lot_ had been watching them before he’d noticed. But before he could spend too long on that question, he felt a vibration in his back pocket, momentarily distracting him, and it wasn’t the good kind. No. Just no. Whatever it was, it could wait.

“Oh yes…most of us go out of our way to make sure everybody knows exactly who we are. Such attention whores we can be…you can imagine, I’m sure.” Sharp teeth flashed again, cycling from pink to blue and back to pink in the ever-changing strobe lighting, before disappearing out of sight behind the side of her neck. “…and yet _you_ do the opposite,” he added, the last bit directed to the decidedly silent woman sandwiched between the two of them.

And who could blame her for being perfectly content doing nothing more than soaking up all of their attentions like an overgrown (and very spoiled) lap cat? She poured herself into each touch, twisting and stretching where her body was directed, first by one, then the other. Her eyes fluttered closed as two crimson fingers passed over the smooth line of her windpipe, guiding her chin upwards in open invitation, and Andronikos took it without hesitation.

They were a team now, he and Lyorek, a temporary alliance. The Sith had been given a one-night, all-access pass into their lives, and after that they’d likely never see him again. That was the way the game worked. It was easier that way. Kept things less…messy.

Things were becoming hazy. Blurred. He was getting lost in the music, wrapped up in the moment. The vibration lit up his ass again, and he had to mentally force the annoyance back down to the bottom of his gut. It was going to fucking damn well wait. When was he going to learn to just turn-the-damned-thing-off?

“Such a shame your little friend got scared away,” the Sith laughed, the sound of his voice serving as a welcome distraction. “…but I think you’ll find that I don’t scare quite as easily…” Andronikos felt a hand, and not one of Nox’s girly paws, slide up his forearm and give a light squeeze before falling away. Wow, _Pounce_ was laying it on thick.

He made it a point not to make a big deal out of the obvious test. Why would he? There were a lot of hands in play, it was only natural they’d overlap here and there. Hell, he’d probably already brushed…something himself. Was he supposed to freak out about it? Even if the guy was into him too? Again, why?

Okay, so yeah, he wasn’t interested in men for himself, that was true…even ones who could charm the pants off a statue, like _Pounce_. But, he knew what Nox liked, and a good number of their date nights ended up in a three-speeder-pile-up with one, so it wasn’t like he was going to die if another man happened to touch him. Sometimes stuff happened in the heat of the moment, and he had enough self-security and confidence to not get all analytical and shit about it.

This was moving fast. He knew they had to have been making a spectacle of themselves, but seriously, who the fuck cared? It was the middle of the night at a dive smack in the center of the Red Light Sector. People didn’t go there to be prudes. Before long they’d end up back at the ship…or…somewhere.

Pale fingers bunched at the collar of his shirt, yanking his mouth in close before being pulled to the side again. He caught a glimpse of a wet tongue shining against the bright lights above, only to disappear in an otherwise occupied fashion...a thoroughly distracting sight on its own until he lost himself with the overall idea of her jawline. It was the curve of her neck, the way the muscles and bone moved and slid beneath the skin just so with every twist and turn as the love of his life played tonsil tag with another man. 

He heard the hint of a moan, almost completely muffled by the loud music overhead, but it was enough to feel the soft purr against his lips, resonating right through the side of her windpipe where he was most definitely not going to leave a mark (that was a lie). It was almost too much to take, and that wasn’t a bad thing.

And then his ass vibrated again. FUCK.

Groaning in frustration, he grazed his teeth over her neck one last time in hopes of gaining some small comfort (it only made things worse) and then pulled away, reaching into his back pocket to pull out the offending mobile comm.

“WHAT!?!”

 _“…Nikky?”_ His rage ratcheted down a notch or so upon hearing the Togruta’s voice, but still, it better damned well have been important. Like life or death important. _“Sorry to bother you…but someone by the name of Captain Quinn keeps contacting the ship looking for Lord Akori’ira. He said he’s been trying to reach her personal comm but hasn’t been able to get through.”_

Andronikos glanced over to where the Wrath and _Captain Empire_ were wrapped up in their own handsy version of public foreplay. “And that’s my problem, how?”

_“Jaesa says that he’s her husband.”_

“Well what does he want?”

_“He wouldn’t say.”_

Great. Just…great. Seriously, it was the first time he’d ever seen the two in a position where they could show any sort of affection out in the open, and then someone just had to lay a steaming pile of shit all over it. He wasn’t without a heart. He knew how it felt. And he also knew why the man wasn’t with them in the first place.

“Send it over,” he huffed, rolling his eye at the thought of breaking up their private party. He didn’t think he could possibly have sounded less enthused about the concept.

_“Kay…”_

As he waited to hear the beep of the line transfer, he sauntered back and forth, pacing in annoyance. In his absence, Nox had spun around in Lyorek’s arms, the pair continuing on without him. Sort of. Apparently, he’d been forced back into the role of frustrated watcher, which was so not where he wanted to be. And fuck, _Pounce_ knew it.

In similar fashion to the move that had gotten him out of his seat to join the pair earlier, Andronikos watched both red hands creep down over the dip of her lower back, tip-toeing the rest of the way to their destination. One at a time, deft fingers bit through fabric into flesh, bunching the material until it hiked up to the point where he could just make out the bottom of a partially-healed bruise…a very distinct partially-healed bruise that held a very distinct mouth-shaped curve. One that he’d put there. Right on the apple of her ass.

There was no way Lyorek could have known it was there, but yeah…it did the job.

_“My lord?”_

He’d been so distracted by thoughts of just how that bruise had gotten there, he hadn’t even heard the transfer. Oh, this jackass was so going to pay for cramping his style. He was going to milk this for all it was worth.

“Do I sound like _your lord_?”

_“To whom am I speaking?”_

 “Oh, I have no idea.” Andronikos paused, relaxing back into a sort of standing lounge. “Some guy…he’s kind of an asshole.”

There was a hesitation on the other end of the line as the disembodied voice processed and registered the pirate’s smartass response. Imperials were so easy to fuck with.

_“I’ll have you know that you are addressing a ranking officer of the Imperial Navy. I dem-“_

“And I’ll have _you_ know that I couldn’t possibly give less of a shit who you are.” Pick. Poke. Prod. “Do I sound like I’m in the _Imperial Navy_?” he asked, adding a nice snot-filled enunciation to the last bit. Maybe the guy would hear a curtsy. Or a really bad attempt at a salute.

Captain, bud. Been there, done that. Only difference was that the Republic didn’t make their officers bend over and take the Pole of Pretention right up the pooper.

They stood at a stalemate, and Andronikos began to wonder if the man had hung up when he heard the sound of a defeated sigh.

_“I was told I would be connected with the Lord Wrath.”_

That was right…this guy was her husband. Wait…seriously? He turned his gaze back towards the Twi’lek, making sure he took another good look at Pierce. Pierce who was still Imperial but had managed to at least loosen the poker up by a decent amount and who actually had a sense of humor. Who was also his friend.

He had to have been missing something.

“Yeah, yeah…just shut the fuck up and hang on. Wouldn’t want you to get your over-starched panties all in a twist.”

_“Please, do not hand the comm over to Lieut-“_

“Pierce!” he called, holding up the device for _Captain Empire_ to see. Both he and the Wrath sauntered over, neither appearing particularly interested, or surprised. Such was their lot in life - constant interruptions and the frustrations that followed. “Says he’s her husband. Good luck with that.”

Before accepting the proffered piece of tech, the Imperial glanced at the Twi’lek at his side, the one who had a look of pure horror on her face. She shook her head, holding her hands out in front of her and turned away.

Andronikos had planned to return to Nox and give Pierce some privacy, but just as he started to walk away, a tug at his sleeve stopped him in his tracks. More like he was chained to a wall.

“Stay put,” the Imperial ordered. “You already know everything anyways.”

Turning his attention to the comm, Pierce hit a button, activating the holo-display. What popped up was…unexpected. At least it wasn’t what the pirate had expected. The Wrath’s husband was…the _Anti-Pierce_. That was the best possible descriptor, no lie. Where _Captain Empire_ was bulky and wide, this man was lean and compact. One carried himself as if he was always ready for a fight. The other was rigid, calm, and collected, the Pole of Pretention firmly in place. Not to mention the difference in accents.

Pierce was low-life scum in the eyes of the _Anti-Pierce._ And Andronikos hated him immediately. He didn’t even need to consider the look on the Twi’lek’s face to make that judgement call.

He’d never seen her look so broken. And scared. It was the same look he saw on Nox that day on Makeb when she’d laid in his arms, shattered into countless pieces, the day he forgave her and fell in love with her all over again. 

Was that who Pierce was to this woman? Had he been the one to pick up the pieces where they fell?

“There was a reason why my comm was off,” he growled. “What do you want? We’ve already got your weekly counts. And we’ve already deleted them without looking. Just like we do every other week.”

_“I need to speak to my wife, Lieutenant.”_

“That’s not going to happen, _Captain_.”

Pierce was pissed, and Andronikos couldn’t blame him one bit. But he had to wonder how the man was still alive, because if that had been Nox, there would have been no question. Bare hands. Knife. Blaster. Broken bottle. All of the above. He heard a soft sigh from behind the mountain of a man and then a white hand reached up to pull his shoulder aside.

“It’s alright, Mason.” She’d managed to collect herself, but he could still see a hint of fear in her one good eye. He’d spent enough time around Sith to be able to recognize it. “What do you want, Malavai?”

_“M…my lord?!?”_

“Yes…what do you want?”

_“It’s been s…you look…”_

“WHAT DO YOU WANT, MALAVAI?”

_“I apologize for my lack of composure, my lord. I have important news.”_

“If that is the case, then there is someone else here who should hear it. Hold.” Placing the call on hold, she gave herself a momentary reprieve, and Andronikos saw her let out a shuddering breath, her shoulders drooping where she’d lost her nerve. It was always unsettling to see creatures who were supposed to be the definition of strength completely lose their shit. 

That was a cry for help. And she wouldn’t have to go far. Nox was already there. He felt her small hand slip into his and give a light squeeze, before she was at the Wrath’s side. “Kira, let’s take this to a quieter, and more private corner of the club,” she said, urging the upset woman forwards with a hand at the small of her back. “Yes?”

Andronikos watched them move off, leaving him behind with Pierce, and oddly enough, a Zabrak who appeared to be doing his best at not looking like the odd man out. Great, how was he going to let this one down easy?

“Look, Lyo…”

“Oh, no need to explain!” he laughed, flashing him a toothy grin. “Duty calls, as it will always…at the worst of times.”

“You can say that again…” It wouldn’t have been the first date night ruined by Sith Shit, rule, or no rule.

“I simply felt the need to wish you a fond farewell.” The Sith stalked closer, just as close as they’d been before, but without someone else in-between. “Perhaps we three will cross paths again someday, and we can finish what we started.” A red hand came up, brushing over his forearm again, and then _Pounce_ was gone, blurring into the crowd, off on another chase.

Able to picture _Captain Empire’s_ smirk well in advance, Andronikos jabbed his elbow to the side, connecting with a rock-like arm. “Shut. Up.” 

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“Uh-huh,” he grumbled, making his way toward the couch he’d occupied earlier. There wasn’t much point in staying on the dance floor. The evening was over, thanks to the _Anti-Pierce_. “So, what’s his story? Besides the obvious, I mean.”

“You mean Quinn?” Pierce plopped down beside him, stretching his legs out in an effort to get comfortable. “Bastard should be dead…that’s his story. The End.”

“I get that…”

“She hasn’t said a word to him since…” His voice died away, and Andronikos watched his expression harden, his eyes roving over the last dregs of the midnight crowd. “Told him to go pound sand and that’s exactly what he did. He’s been on Korriban for two fucking years…counting sand.”

“That’s…kind of…awesome.”

He huffed through his nose, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “We weren’t expecting him to take it so literally,” he chuckled. “But you’re right. I might not have been able to kill him with my bare hands like I wanted, but it is poetic…to say the least.”

The men sat in comfortable silence, waiting to be brought in on just what had been so important as to ruin a perfectly good evening. It didn't take long. 

Returning from the corner they’d sequestered themselves to, the Wrath looked exhausted, both mentally and physically drained. “Mason, please go collect Vette. I imagine she’s still in the back room knee-deep in a shady game of sabacc. I’ll meet you at the ship. We’re leaving immediately. Jaesa and Ashara are already on board.”

Pierce nodded in acknowledgment, slapping the pirate on the knee before getting to his feet. “I’ll see you when I see you, Nik. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Oh, I’m sure these ladies will figure out a way to get us all neck-deep in a serious amount of shit again before long," he responded, completely thrilled with that idea. Not. What could have been so important that they had to leave right away? And whatever it was, it better not fuck with the Alderaan plans. Yup, he was being selfish. Damn straight.

But it seemed that the Sith had already worked that out, because Nox made no move to offer their company, nor did she give any indication that they had to leave. Good.

“Take your vacation, Lu,” said the Twi’lek, her voice heavy, pulling Nox in for a tight hug. “You need it…you both do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so Quinn. Let it be known that I like Quinn just fine. But this chapter was written from Nik's perspective, and Nik is friends with Pierce. This in no way means that I am hating on him, nor does it mean that I will be hating on him in the future. He will have more play...and he will be looked at differently by different characters. :)


	26. White Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron is sore.  
> Theron is cold.  
> Theron is having an all-around bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "White Rabbit"  
> Jefferson Airplane
> 
> One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small  
> And the ones that mother gives you, don't do anything at all  
> Go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall  
> And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall  
> Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar has given you the call  
> And call Alice, when she was just small  
> When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go  
> And you've just had some kind of mushroom, and your mind is moving low  
> Go ask Alice, I think she'll know  
> When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead  
> And the white knight is talking backwards  
> And the red queen's off with her head  
> Remember what the dormouse said  
> Feed your head, feed your head

Ziost, ??? – Theron

When Theron came to, the first thing he noticed was that he was hanging upside down. The second thing he noticed was that his shoulder hurt like a son of a bitch. The third thing? Yeah…there may have been a bit of a fire.

“Ugh, ffffuck…” he groaned, blinking his eyes against the overly bright light shining through the shattered cockpit windows. A gust of icy air hit his face, making him shiver against the restraints of his flight harness, and each ragged puff of breath he managed to push out of his lungs could be seen for a brief moment before disappearing into the frigid atmosphere around him. Delicate flakes of snow had already begun to waft and drift into the cabin, giving every flat surface he could see a fine coating of sparkling white powder.

He’d been out for a while. And he was freezing his ass off. And…where the fuck was that fire? He couldn’t see it, but he could smell it. There was nothing quite like the smell of burning electronics.

Fighting against the restraints holding him in place, he twisted his head around to get a better look at the rest of the cockpit. It was an upside-down look, but at least he could see that nothing was actually on fire. One of the panels on the far wall behind the co-pilot’s seat had fried in the crash and was still smoldering.

He tried to raise his arms from where they dangled above (below?) and yelped at the resultant shooting pain when one of them refused to obey the simple command. Just…wonderful. His mouth was dry. His tongue felt like it was coated with fur. He was shivering. And he’d managed to dislocate his shoulder. Again.

This was so gonna hurt.

Bracing himself for what was to come, he fiddled with the buckles, finding a quick release. There was a snap, and a jostle as his weight shifted to one side. One down. With the second, he squeezed his eyes shut, counting to three under his breath, and then found himself crumpled on the floor (ceiling) in a heap, his head completely swimming, whether from the pain or from the blood rushing out or both…and yup, his arm still didn’t work. 

Theron scooched-slid-rolled himself into a sort-of upright sitting position, groaning again as the walls of the cabin spun around him. It was a certainty that if he were to try to stand up now, he would fall right over onto his face.

Waiting for the thrumming ache in his head to abate, he took stock of his current condition, hoping for at least a shred of luck to come his way. Other than the shoulder, he could feel both legs, and they didn’t hurt, so at least that was a start. With his one useable hand, he probed as best he could at his ribcage. So far, so good.

But his face…not so much. As soon as his fingers barely nudged at the thin skin and bone at his temple, right around his implants, a searing jab of pain shot down the side of his face and all the way into his spine. Hissing through his teeth, he forced himself to continue poking and prodding at the exposed components, getting a vague idea of the amount of damage he was looking at. They were still there. Obviously fried, but it could have been worse. Nothing had been ripped out in the crash, so yeah…there was that.

From what he could tell, it was nothing he couldn’t fix for himself in a med bay (when he could get to one), though it did severely suck that he’d just gotten there, and he was already flying blind. It wasn’t like he’d never had to wing it before, but still…major suckage.

On the other hand, a spy who couldn’t work without an artificial leg-up wasn’t much of a spy, now was he?

He giggled, a sad, shock-induced, almost-drunk sounding bark of laughter. Ugh, if only. What he wouldn’t have done for a nice stiff drink to help fuzz away the senses. Sighing, he pulled his hand back, the pads of his fingers coming away from his face red with smeared blood. Just…awesome.

But at that moment, the implants were the least of his problems. He was so not looking forward to the concept of ramming his shoulder into the wall to pop it back into the socket. He couldn’t leave it like that, so he didn’t exactly have a whole bunch of other options.

“Alright, let’s do this…,” he muttered, brushing his bloody digits off on a pant leg as he grunted himself to his feet. They were ruined anyways, what with the melted snow and whatever the hell else had gotten all over them in the crash. His disguise would never hold up now.

He leaned over, letting his arm dangle uselessly below, as if he had any other choice. Taking a deep breath, he gradually straightened up where he stood, the arm rolling with his movement just outside of the socket. That shoulder had popped out more times in the past than he cared to admit, and he’d done this move before. Sometimes it was enough to do the trick. He could feel the pressure tightening and tightening to the point where he thought it was going to pop back in on its own, but no such luck.

Fuck. He was going to have to do it after all.

He studied the corner of the wall where the corridor from the back of the ship met with the cabin, trying to think about anything other than how much this was going to hurt without any sort of pain suppressant or alcohol in his system. “C’mon, Shan…don’t bitch out now.” Shuffling closer, he inhaled another deep gulp of icy air and let it out around a puff of his cheeks, counting down under his breath just as he’d done when he was still lashed upside down.

At three, he twisted to the side, slamming his shoulder forward into the solid surface. The leverage was what he’d needed. There was a pop, a shredding stab of pain like none other that made his vision fade out to starry blackness, and then a sudden release of pressure. Finally.

He froze, waiting to see if it was going to hold, and then gradually tested the arm. It was tight…and sore…and he was most definitely going to need to have it looked at, but at least he’d be able to use it. Sort of. He was a twenty-nine-year-old with the shoulders of an old man. Yay. Bring on the arthritis.

Now that he could finally think a bit more clearly, he cast his gaze about the cabin, finding his jacket crumpled in the corner, nearly covered with a pile of loose powder. (That was right, he was fucking freezing!) As if his body had suddenly remembered that it was very much snowing outside, his teeth involuntarily started to chatter, and he rubbed his hands together, bracing himself against the cold as he bent down to shake out the red leather.

“It never gets easy, does it?” he grumbled, wincing at the stubbornly achy protestations in his shoulder as he threaded his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, silently repeating a sort of shoulder-centric pep talk over and over in his head until the leather was comfortably settled in place. There wasn’t much in the way of cold-weather gear on the ship, and he hadn’t exactly thought ahead to realize that it was the middle of winter on Ziost. He had to find shelter. Fast. 

He turned toward the front of the ship and the crumpled hull of the cabin, taking one last look at the confiscated Imperial craft that had been his for all of about six days, since he’d _borrowed_ it from the SIS (borrowed was such a loose term). It was time to go, but the still blinking lights of the ship’s comm caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Huh. He _was_ undercover, after all. And he _was_ wearing a blood-smeared, dirty, and surprisingly well-fit officer’s uniform. Maybe someone was listening. If it still worked.

Only willing to risk reaching up with one arm, he started flipping the familiar switches and dials, now above his head, until he was relatively sure that he’d found the channel he was looking for. He cleared his throat, summoning the emotionally detached Kaasian accent he’d used many times in the past on undercover ops, one he was quite proud of in fact, and flipped the switch to open the comm channel.

“Mayday mayday mayday…this is Imperial shuttlecraft _Calliope_ requesting immediate assistance. Designation one-seven-four-three-dash-nine-seven-zed.” He paused, hearing nothing but heavy static on the other line. “I repeat, this is Imperial shuttlecraft _Calliope_ requesting immediate assistance. Do you read?”

Still nothing. He sighed, resigned to the overall idea that he was on his own. Gathering up what few things he could shove into a small backpack or latch onto his belt, the ridiculously useless thin strip of black leather that it was, he started to make his way to the aft of the ship when he heard the monotonous base comm static change pitch.

_“…ttle…iope…th…is…known…romised designation. Identify…rself.”_

Well, at least now he knew why he’d been shot down. They hadn’t even bothered to contact the shuttle and had instead left it up to the automated defenses, which hadn’t exactly liked the expired codes he’d used. Which also meant that shit was definitely going down. Fuck.

_“Shuttlecraft Calli…that…wn…compromised...ignation. Identify yourself immediately.”_

Double fuck. It was definitely time to pull some serious bullshit out of his ass. Dropping the pack from his good shoulder, he trotted back over to the comm station, hoping to cobble something together that made some semblance of sense. Normally he went in ahead of time with a full backstory at the ready, but this time he was completely shooting from the hip.

“Ziost Planetary Command, this is Lieutenant Tev Fith reporting as ordered by…Darth Nox for general inspection.” Triple fuck! Why had that name just popped in there?!? “I _demand_ to know why automated planetary defenses targeted and engaged my shuttle without warning!”

He slapped a hand to his forehead, throwing a most serious eye roll at the walls around him for the sake of his own stupidity, hoping that his little name drop didn’t send him from the freezer straight into the frying pan. Either they were going to check up on him and find out he was completely bogus, or they were going to be too busy pissing themselves over the idea that a Dark Councilor had sent someone their way and just go with it in hopes of saving their own hides or propping themselves up for a pat on the head by his would-have-been girlfriend.

Oh, the things he would have done for one of those right abou-

Shit, what if they called him on his bluff and contacted her? _What if_ they contacted her? _Fucking get ahold of yourself, Shan…time and place…time and place…you’re on the job and this isn’t it…_

_“Lieut…F…th…there…no record…inspectio...”_

“There would not _be_ any record, Planetary Command…,” he responded, as if it should have been obvious from the start. Such insolence he had to deal with! “It is not that sort of inspection, and _you will_ answer to my superiors for your complete disregard of protocol. For your sake, you are lucky I am unharmed.” It was time to bring it home, throw the play or it was never going to be convincing. He had to hope the man on the other end of the line was afraid just enough. “Now, if you would like to contact the Darth directly in order to question the validity of her-“

 _“No! There…no…eed! Understood, sir.”_ Theron let out a breath of relief, watching it disappear in front of his face as he visibly relaxed. It seemed the threat of Nox’s very being was no less of an intimidation now than it had been on Yavin Four. (And it was still hot as fuck.) _“Assistan…will…sen…at…liest…con..ience.”_

Whew. Though he wasn’t sure what the man had meant by _earliest convenience_. Going off of the last ultra-weird report he’d gotten from Master Surro, that could mean never. Not to mention there had been no acknowledgement of the automated defenses. Interesting. They were trying to hide something. And they didn’t want anybody coming to visit. At all.

Blowing out another puff of frosted breath, he started pacing back and forth, weighing his options. Stay in the ship and try to stay alive long enough to _maybe_ be rescued before freezing solid? Or look for shelter elsewhere and then make his way to the city on his own after the storm cleared?

All he had was his leather jacket and a standard insulated emergency blanket. There wasn’t a whole lot to burn on the ship for warmth, other than his own supplies, and there were no extra rooms he could burrow himself into to get away from the snow that continued to drift in. The tiny one-room Imperial craft made Jakarro’s ship look like a luxury liner.

Option B was starting to sound pretty good.

But what if he couldn’t find shelter out there? Then he really would turn into a meat popsicle. He huffed, digging through the pack again. Flashlight. Blanket. Change of clothes. MREs. Emergency med kit. Utility knife. Ugh, he was waffling. There had to be a place out there. Ziost wasn’t exactly a flat desert. He’d been there before and remembered the area he and Gnost-Dural had scouted a few years back. There were numerous outposts outside the city, and a huge cave system left behind by local mining efforts. The question was, how far out was he? And could he find something fast enough?

“Fuck it,” he announced, to himself as much as to the air around him. Getting into New Adasta was his best chance at finding Master Surro and the rest of the Sixth Line. And staying inside that ship was not getting inside the city. Moving was at least putting him one step closer to finding out whatever the kriffing shit was going on.

His decision made, Theron took one step toward the belly of the tiny shuttle, and the main hatch, only to realize that it was going to open mostly into the ground. He’d end up getting himself even more covered in mud and snow, and likely pop his shoulder out again trying to shimmy himself along on his stomach to reach the world outside.

A gust of air bit at the back of his neck, reminding him that the ship’s cockpit was very much open to the elements. Well, why bother with the door when there was a perfectly good window he could climb through? 

Throwing the pack over his shoulder, he made his way to the front of the ship, which was a virtual minefield of scattered shards of broken transparisteel, most of which had been covered by a fresh layer of snowfall. He reached up with his good arm, finding a part of the hull to use as leverage to sort of vault himself up and over, and drop down into the snow-muffled silence outside. Where is was even colder.

As he trudged along the outside hull of the ship, his teeth started chattering again, almost drowning out the sound of the snow crunching under his footsteps. Tucking his bared hands into the crook of each arm, he was seriously starting to rethink the plan of striking out on his own when he rounded the aft corner and saw them. More like heard them. Speeders. And they were coming his way.  

He jumped back behind the rear hull, drawing his blasters to the ready as he knelt down in the snow, waiting…hoping it was Surro. When had he ever had that much luck? It was dealer’s choice at this point. It could be her. It could be the promised Imperial aid. Or it could be something else entirely.

Willing the cold to stay at bay for just a little while longer, Theron sat motionless, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as he peeked around the corner. Fat, puffy flakes of snow started to collect in his hair as he waited, weighing down the front to the point of flopping over onto his forehead. He swiped the offending strands out of the way, mussing it off to the side in what he could only imagine resembled a righteous case of dampened bed head. Not exactly the image of a calm and collected Imperial Lieutenant.

Any second now and he’d be able to see them.

There were three. Two fully-armored Imperial guards and a third hooded figure in battle-gear. The sort of battle-gear a Force user would wear. A Jedi in particular. What. The. Fuck? Could it be Master Surro and two of her men in hijacked gear? It wouldn’t have been that much of a stretch, he supposed.

He watched the trio leave their speeders at a reasonable distance and fan out as they approached the crashed ship. They didn’t make a sound. There were no hand signals, no voice commands…and that was…odd. Something wasn’t right, and the anxiety was making him feel sick to his stomach.

He could feel it in the back of his head, like a fly buzzing in his ear. Something that told him to stay put. But it didn’t do any good. For all his lack of sensitivity with the Force, he knew the hooded figure could sense him. Shrouded and shadowed depths stared out from beneath the lowered cowl right at him, like he was standing out in the open for all to see.  

A pair of armored hands reached up to pull back the hood, confirming first his hopes, and then a whole slew of newly found fears. It was Master Surro. But it also wasn’t. Something was without a doubt very wrong. She looked…sick. And frozen. Her deep brown skin had taken on an almost greyish cast, as if there was no warmth left to be found within, and her lips were cracked and bloody from careless exposure to the elements. They were curled into an uncharacteristic sneer, making the cracks all the more disturbingly apparent. Though she didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

Her eyes were the worst part. He’d always thought her eyes reminded him of the sun, liquid gold and fearless. But now they were dull and dead and icy blue, just as cold as he felt. And it most definitely was not the Sixth Line CO staring back at him through them. It was someone else. Someone who scared the ever-loving shit out of him.

Theron felt his head start to swim, like he was going to pass out. He fought through it, scrunching his eyes shut briefly to draw focus, unsure if it was a concussion or exhaustion or just the raw, shredding cold. The only thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t want Not-Surro or either of the two others to get anywhere near him.

But, he didn’t want to kill her either. It was his fault they’d all gotten into this mess in the first place. She was his responsibility.

“Stay back, Ilya,” he warned, switching one of his blasters to a good, strong stun setting. Taking a deep breath, he side-stepped out from behind the hull, immediately assessing the location of the other two armored guards with a quick flick of the eye. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

 _“Theron Shan…”_ Her voice sounded distant…and twisted. Hers, but at the same time, not. Almost like someone speaking through a really creepy comm unit. Or a ventriloquist dummy. All three figures stopped in their tracks, arms hanging lifeless at their sides, not even bothering to go for their weapons. _“I admit, this is a pleasant surprise. Thank you for sending me your friends to play with. We’re going to have such fun together…”_

It was the only thing he could see. That sneer. The way it widened further, fresh cracks opening where the pallid skin stretched against the blistering cold. Was the Jedi Master still even in there?

The buzzing was getting louder and louder. He dropped a blaster into the snow at his feet, clutching a fist to his temple as he pushed back the dizziness and nausea threatening to overwhelm him. He wanted to scream, to make it stop, and before he realized what he was doing, he’d leveled his other blaster on Not-Surro and fired, dropping her and the two others in quick succession.

And then it stopped. Just as quickly as it had started to get the better of him, the buzzing and nausea was gone, leaving him to the soothing, hushed silence of the falling snow, and three crumpled figures laid out before him. He took one breath. Another. Looking up to the iron-grey sky above, he watched as snowflakes drifted in slow-motion down to land on the eerily-still forms, quickly collecting into a layer of white dust against the dark shrouded fabric and armor that covered them where they fell.

What had just happened?

They hadn't even tried to move or to fight back. It was like...they were waiting for him to shoot. There was no way Not-Surro or the guards could have known ahead of time that he was only firing stun rounds.

“Ugh, what the fuck did you get me into, Raz…?”

It seemed that he'd landed himself smack in the middle of a horror flick. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors.  
> This author invites:
> 
> Short comments  
> Long comments  
> Questions  
> Constructive criticism  
> “<3” as extra kudos  
> Reader-reader interaction
> 
> This author replies to comments.


	27. City of Blinding Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A casual stroll.  
> A bit of horseplay.  
> A serious moment.  
> A calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "City of Blinding Lights"  
> U2
> 
> The more you see the less you know  
> The less you find out as you go  
> I knew much more then than I do now
> 
> Neon heart, day-glow eyes  
> The city lit by fireflies  
> They're advertising in the skies  
> And people like us
> 
> And I miss you when you're not around  
> I'm getting ready to leave the ground
> 
> Oh you look so beautiful tonight...
> 
> Don't look before you laugh  
> Look ugly in a photograph  
> Flash bulbs, purple irises the camera can't see
> 
> I've seen you walk unafraid  
> I've seen you in the clothes you've made  
> Can you see the beauty inside of me?  
> What happened to the beauty I had inside of me?
> 
> And I miss you when you're not around  
> I'm getting ready to leave the ground
> 
> Oh you look so beautiful tonight...tonight  
> In the city of blinding lights
> 
> Time...time....time...won't leave me as I am  
> But time won't take the boy out of this man  
> Oh you look so beautiful tonight  
> Oh you look so beautiful tonight  
> Oh you look so beautiful tonight
> 
> In the city of blinding lights,  
> The more you know  
> The less you feel  
> Some pray for, others steal  
> Blessings not just for the ones who kneel, luckily

Nar Shaddaa, Club Ufora – Nox

“That something I should be worrying about?” Lounging back onto the worn, what-used-to-be-red velour club seating, Andronikos flicked his chin in the general direction of two distinctly black and white striped lek, two lek that swayed back and forth in force as the Empire’s Wrath stilted away from them and out of sight. Nox followed his gaze, quietly drawing the analogy that her friend looked quite like a startled cat sidestepping a much larger, more threatening adversary, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to fight or run away to the hills. She’d never seen the woman so unsettled and out of sorts. And that was saying a lot.  

A wayward husband’s rather abrupt reappearance had certainly thrown the otherwise unflappable Twi’lek for a loop she had no idea how to navigate. Who could, given the situation? Someone made of stone perhaps, but even Kira was flesh and blood at her core. It was impossible to begin to fathom what it would have felt like…to lose that level of trust, the sort that could only be placed with those held most dear. Those who had been made privy to even a Sith’s innermost weaknesses. 

And what if Nik were offered a better deal? Would their partnership come to the same sort of sticky end?

Nox felt a sharp stab of anger aimed at herself for even considering the notion. He’d already proven time and again that he was willing to put everything on the line for her. For them. The angry scar just two inches to the left of his heart was enough to be sure on that front. He would die for her, _had_ almost died for her…and she would tear down the walls of time and space itself in his name should anything of the sort come to pass.

They were fools, but for all their problems, they were fools in each other.

Even more so, when piled against the insurmountable odds the Wrath was sure to face in the near future, all of their combined woes, grown over the course of the previous months…which were in no small part her own bloody fault, became positively microscopic by comparison. Almost comically trivial, really. And, oddly enough, perhaps even a little selfishly, she was able to take more than a small amount of comfort in that. 

“Would you even listen if I said no?” Tearing her gaze away from the phantom vision of the long-disappeared Twi’lek, she tried, and quite miserably failed, to cover up a tug of a grin at the corner of her lip. Nik looked downright wistful, and the last thing she wanted was to disappoint him. All he could talk about of late was their upcoming holiday. No doubt he had something up his sleeve…the _Big. Bad. Pirate._ was romantically sneaky like that, almost hopelessly at times. “ _No…_ ,” she giggled, folding her knees beneath her as she sank down onto the couch at his side with a pensive huff.

“Well, you gonna leave me in suspense or what?”

She shuffled her body closer, bringing her knees right up against his hip, and leaned into the lumpy, threadbare cushion, only to rest her chin lazily on top of his outstretched arm like a tired predator laying its head upon a fallen tree branch. The club was winding down into the long hours of the night, and only a few holdouts remained on the dance floor. It was mostly couples, couples like them she supposed, whether old or new, who had yet to retire themselves to more private endeavors.

The beat was slow, no longer churning the atmosphere into a barely-contained frenzy, and she half-heartedly considered one last dance, just for them, before deciding against it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, it was only that after seeing her friend in such a state, she really just wanted to be alone. Alone meaning just the two of them.

Thankfully, their more-than-accommodating Zabrak friend had reached the same conclusion all on his own and had bowed out gracefully. That could have ended very poorly, and would have, with almost any other member of the overall Sith persuasion. But that one – he’d been an interesting sort. It would have made for a fun, and rather acrobatic end to the evening she was sure, but that wasn’t what she wanted, not anymore. And judging by the look on his face, it wasn’t what Nik wanted either.

“Captain Quinn had a lead on Vitiate…” It was a blank statement, something she couldn’t have sounded less interested, or concerned, with discussing, but even so, she could tell that his mind had already started to jump to conclusions.

“That all?” The corded muscles of his forearm flexed beneath her chin, and out of the heavy-lidded corner of an eye, she watched his gaze rove over the last of the remaining dancers as he waited for a reply.

“And you say -I- never listen,” she jabbed. Letting out an amused sort-of snort through her nose, she rolled her head to face him, her cheek now bearing the weight on his forearm rather than her chin. “It’s hardly a lead at this point, so _no_ …I didn’t even offer.” She shifted beside him, her eyes narrowing into a devious little smirk as she raised the tip of an index finger and poked him square on the tip of his nose. “You’re so cute when you get all flustered.”

“I. Don’t. Fluster.”

“ _Oh yes you do_.” He was trying so hard to look serious, though the almost absentmindedly light touch of a thumb making slow passes over the hollow of her bent knee told her otherwise. “You’re a pirate…” she continued, leaning forward to bring her lips to within striking distance of his ear, “…a pirate who flusters…and it’s adorable.”

There was a half-grumbled huff, and the weight of his temple brushing against her forehead. “I would have killed him, you know…no holding back. I wouldn’t have been able to…” Still staring blankly out at the mostly empty dance floor, he tugged at the back of her knee, pulling her legs into his lap, and ran a thumb and index finger idly down the outside of her calf. Callused fingers wrapped around her ankle, but they were soft in the way they caressed at the thin skin.

“I know, my darling,” she sighed. She did know. Unlike Pierce, Nik would have never left that choice to her. He would have reacted in the moment, without thinking, and that was one of the many differences between Pirate and Imperial. It was something she’d accepted a long time ago, his passion and blatant disrespect for the Imperial lifestyle. Inconvenient at times, infuriating at others…but it was what had attracted her to him in the first place. Her weakness for Republic boys, it seemed. Kira would have loved that one.

“If anyone were t- “

“ _Shhhhh…!_ We’re on holiday…” Two fingers went up to his lips, stopping him in his tracks, which may have been a mistake. Or not. “ _I know_ …and that’s why I love you,” she laughed, pulling the captured digits out from between his just-a-little-bit-harder-than-playful bite. “Well, it’s one of two reasons…” The freed hand went down to rest on his chest, her fingers just passing under the seam between two buttons.  

“Oh? And what’s the other…since apparently there are only two?”

“You…just might have a truly fine arse…”

He pulled her torso in tighter, his chest rumbling with a choked off bout of laughter. “Well, as long as you have your priorities in line…” Soft lips grazed over her brow, and she felt the rhythmic light touch of breaths skittering down over her face where his nose rested against her forehead. “So, are we going or staying?” he asked, the hand at her ankle giving a light squeeze as he nodded toward the dance floor. Clubs on Nar Shaddaa never truly slept. They could have stayed there all night and into the next day without being given a second glance.

“I’m actually kind of hungry.”

“Because...you didn’t eat before we left?” He paused, waiting for a response he was sure he already knew the answer to. “ _Of course_ , you didn’t…,” he muttered.

“No, I did! I’ve just…been feeling a bit peckish as of late.”

“Well that’s a welcome surprise. I’ve only been trying to get you to eat for…years now? C’mon…” He patted the side of her thigh with the flat of his hand, and she felt the muscles of his stomach flex as he sat forward on the couch they had both begun to sink into. “…there’s a good noodle stand nearby.”

\---------------

_They were just a couple out for a stroll. That’s all they were to the untrained eye. And it was all they wanted to be. Anonymous. Inconsequential. Just a couple of nobodies. Were they on their way home? To a hotel? To the spaceport? Who could say for sure?_

_Oh, they turned some heads, there was no avoiding that – they were both dressed to kill. Tight leather pants…a teeny slip of a black dress…it wasn’t a mystery as to where they’d spent their evening. But even so, as the man and woman slowly meandered through the steamy smog-dampened streets of the greater Promenade, none they passed paid them any mind._

_Not the vendors calling out their wares, from comfort food to exotic cuisines to cheaply made bric-a-brac, not the group of teenage ruffians quite miserably failing to hold their liquor outside of the Slippery Slopes, not even the varying and numerous versions of thieves and muggers inevitably waiting around each new turn. None bothered them._

_It could have been luck._

_Or not._

_Either way, nobody would have seen a Sith. Certainly not a leader of the Dark Council. Because, other than seeing a small, red-haired human, her rather exposed, almost-ghostly pale skin seeming to glow against the overly bright bazaar lighting, nobody would have looked at her twice. At least not enough to even begin to guess at who she really was._

_She was pretty enough, but all eyes quickly passed on from her and landed on the taller man at her side. He was rugged. Weathered. He’d obviously seen some action...military, mercenary, criminal, or all of the above, it didn’t matter. What did matter was that he clearly wasn’t one to be trifled with. But, there was something else about him. That despite the quite obvious presence of a holdout pistol tucked at his back, he was also clean-cut and well put together. Looking sharp was nothing new for him. He walked tall, almost with a swagger, and he dominated a sense of space around them with a level of confidence few could ever hope to match._

_Or, it could have been the lightsaber hilt swinging from his hip. That alone was enough to give pause. Nobody had to know who it really belonged to._

_Those who left them alone had no idea how lucky they were to have consciously made that decision._

_Before long, the woman’s pace slowed, and when she stopped and looked down with the most pathetic of little frowns on her face, the man bent to one knee before her in what appeared to have been a ritual performed many times over in the past. His fingers worked to quickly free first one sore foot from its strappy stiletto prison, and then any onlooker would have seen him cup a hand behind the opposite calf and gaze up at her with a soft smile on his face, sharing in a private moment, before moving on to free the other._

_He was no stranger to those shoes, or to the gesture, and he was back on his feet in no time, right back at her side. They continued on into the fluorescent-lit night, just as they were, his hand looped possessively over hers and not a care in the galaxy between them, or at least seemingly so. The only difference was that now, a pair of sexy black heels dangled, all but forgotten, from the tip of the index finger of the man’s free hand._

_A completely ordinary, run-of-the-mill couple._

\---------------

Nox knew that moments like that couldn’t happen on Dromund Kaas, or pretty much anywhere in Imperial space. They were too far and too few between…each and every one had to be cherished. And at that particular slice in their life made together, she didn’t think she could have been much happier.

A light drizzle had begun to fall, fine mist-like droplets that clung to every surface like dew. It weighed down her hair, dampened their skin to a sticky sheen, and turned the world around them into a hazy, glowing symphony of color. Pinks…blues…greens…yellows…they all flashed and swum before them with a sense of choreography, almost dancing.

Nar Shaddaa could be quite beautiful, even if it was poisonously overpopulated.

She hopped over a small puddle in their path, and Nik shook his head beside her, laughing at the sound of her bare footfalls slapping against the wet duracrete.

“That will never not be weird to me…”

“We’re covered in blood, mud, grime, and who knows-what-else on a day to day, and you’re squicked out by this?”

“I’m always _squicked out_ by how you can just trudge through…whatever…like nothing. Like the ground isn’t absolutely filthy…”

“So, it’s alright on your body…just not on your feet…,” she giggled, proving his point by splashing through the next puddle very much on purpose. She seemed to remember him not minding getting down and dirty when they were, quite literally, down and dirty. Many times. Their first time, in fact. Complete with blood, mud, sweat, and probably some unidentified killik…stuff. But then, he was wearing boots, so apparently that was all that mattered.

Going barefoot had always been a thing for her, going all the way back to the Moff’s compound on Dromund Kaas. In her youth, she was never allowed outside the walls of the heavily guarded Imperial complex. But there were manicured gardens. And trees. And swaths of close-cropped lawns for her to walk through. She could picture it in her head, clear as day…and she could still feel the soft, damp blades of grass sliding between her toes. That small escape. It was something that had stuck with her, even after.

No matter where they went, the boots would inevitably come off and she’d be barefoot. The white beaches of Rakata Prime. The muddy banks of Rishi. The hot desert sands of Tatooine. The alpine meadows of Alderaan. Perhaps it was her way of connecting with the landscape. Well…maybe not so much with the ice and snow and volcanoes.

But, she was pretty sure Nik got it. Most of the time. Sometimes. When he wasn’t being an ass.

Reaching the taxi pad connected to the upper floors of the Promenade, he released his hold on her hand and swung around to face her as they waited. She stood up on her tip-toes before him, doing her best to bring herself to eye level, but it was mostly an exercise in futility. Nothing could change the fact that Nik was a good deal taller than she was. Other than the spike heels he had dangling from his fingertips, of course.

“If you wore heels like that…” Her eyes dropped to the shoes swinging at his side, before finding their way back up. “...you’d understand.”

“Find a pair in my size and I will rock your world, babe.” A single brow arched, and he looked down at her with such a cocky grin on his face, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to burst out in a bout of uncontrollable giggles or pounce on him right there in the street. Or both.

The pads of two fingers brushed down over his cheek, swiping away a stray droplet of water. They were both fairly soaked through by that point, and she couldn’t help noticing that a fog had fallen over the platform. They were alone, shrouded in their own private cloud, and as she gazed up at him, she watched the shimmering mélange of colors bouncing around them reflect off his wet skin like an electric rainbow.

She was more than ready to call it a night. She was practically naked and wet and even the warmth of his arms draped around her torso couldn’t protect her from the sudden (and exceedingly rude) chill in the air. Thankfully they didn’t have to wait long before they heard the distinct sound of a taxi descending through the mists.

“The spaceport.”

The human driver half-turned in his seat at the sound of her voice but whipped his head forward upon seeing the pirate climb in after her.

“Mezenti. _Please_ ,” Nik added, emphasizing the last word as he shot her a decent amount of slightly annoyed side-eye. There was no doubt he could and would always be an arsehole. But Nox had learned over the years that Nik also went out of his way at times to be polite to the little people, the cogs that kept the galaxy turning, even as he went further out of his way to be impolite (to put it mildly) to the not-so-little people.

Something Imperials so easily forgot. Something she so easily forgot.

It should have made her ill at ease, and sometimes it did. But not this time. It was just another part of who they were together. Their couple style, she supposed. He’d chosen to be with an Imperial, he knew who she was, as he’d become so fond of reminding her. He’d never once given her grief about it…and it wasn’t like she went out of her way to be rude to people. Most of the time. Maybe he thought it was cute. One could hope.

The taxi was warm, and as she felt her sense of gravity shift as it pulled away from the shuttle pad, it was all Nox could be prodded into caring about. At least for that particular moment in time. She melted into the corner of the benched back seat, mewling like a spoiled lap cat when Nik slid his body beneath her legs, pulling them into his lap much in the same way as before back at the club. Only this time he’d scooched himself close enough to avoid touching her feet.

She cracked an eye open and brought the palm of a hand up to her face, pretending not to notice. A crooked grin threatened to curl at the side of her lip. This could be fun. Immature and childish, yes. But oh, so fun.

Making quite a process out of it, she stretched her legs across his thighs, pointing her toes until they touched the other side of the cabin. There was another stretch for good measure…a sigh…

“I know what you’re fishing for,” he laughed, drumming the palms of his hands against a damp shin, “and that’s not gonna happen.” At the sound of her saddest, most pitiful of puppy-dog whines, his laughter turned into an amused rumble, and he shook his head at the ceiling, the fingertips of one hand sliding down to wrap around an ankle. “There’s no telling where those things have been.”

“You know exactly where they’ve been…” Arching a brow in his direction, the crooked grin became more than a threat. She felt his grip tighten around her ankle in warning, which did nothing but cement her next course of action. A momentary glance was spared for the driver up front, and from one breath to the next, she tugged her legs away, or at least tried to, and did her best to walk the dirty pads of her feet right over his torso. Pretty much everywhere.

“Uh… _ye-ah_!” he yelped, flailing about in a rather comical way to regain his hold as he growled about that having been entirely the point.  

From there it turned into a sort of playful scuffle, and before long, Nox found herself pinned beneath him across the seat, perhaps more than a little out of breath from laughing so hard. It would have been so easy to free herself, even with the way Nik had captured her wrists loosely above her head. Just a tiny nudge with the Force. But, she let herself be held. It wasn’t exactly an all-around unpleasant position to be in. Quite the reverse, in fact.

A strong hand ran down the curve of her side, and she tilted her chin up, leaning right into his grip. “There’s something else I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on…” he grumbled, his overt and sticky sweet words muffled by the movement of his mouth over hers. His touch was gentle, yet firm, but he put up no fight when she slid her wrists out of his other hand to hold his head steady with the flats of her palms, just barely enough to pull his mouth away. 

“I do hope you didn’t work overly hard on that one, because wow…awful…” she giggled, wrinkling her nose up as she pulled him right back in for another kiss.

“I try…” He shifted his weight above her, and despite the rather cramped (and less-than-private) surroundings of the back seat, dipped his nose beneath her chin to open up more real estate for himself.

Perfect lips blazed trails down the side of her neck, over the slope of her windpipe, down to the space just below her collar bone. Just the right amount of teeth…just the right amount of tongue…Nox heard a resonating half-growl as her body responded quite literally to his ministrations. Uncontrollable shivers. A healthy smattering of gooseflesh. Pathetic little mewls. He wanted it all, he was a glutton for it, and he never appeared to have any hesitation or doubts in how to get what he wanted out of her.

The tips of her fingers slid up over his ears and freshly-shaven scalp as his mouth and deliciously hot breath moved lower, leaving her to dig two sets of nails into the smooth skin at a particularly sharp nip over her breast bone. Her eyes shot open, focusing on the shadowed cabin’s ceiling, and then flicked towards the front.

Public indecency, to put it bluntly, had always been filed away under take-it-or-leave-it for her. It just wasn’t her thing, though she’d learned quite early on that it was, consequently, very much Nik’s thing. As long as he could get away with it. Taxi shuttles, elevators, cinemas…pretty much any place where there was a risk of being caught. Filthy or pristine, on or off the battlefield, it didn’t matter. And Nar Shaddaa was a virtual playground.

She wasn’t worried about the driver. Hardly. Again, they were on Nar Shaddaa. That man had probably seen it all…and then some. Not to mention the fact that from what she could remember, each taxi shuttle was equipped with a privacy screen should the need arise anyways.

Speaking of which, all she could see of the man up front was a pair of icy blue eyes in the rear-view. Eyes that appeared to be watching them just as much as the thronging streams of shuttle traffic around them. Or possibly more, if the random angry one-off honks and beeps coming from either side were any indicator.

Wonderful. That was how she wanted to die. In a shuttle crash with Nik’s hand up her dress. Really, it didn’t sound all that bad, but there were probably better ways to go. Of course, all of them involved the pirate in some way, shape, or form, but…not in the back of a dirty taxi on the Smugglers’ Moon. Standards.

“This cab ride isn’t going to be long enough, Nik…” She laughed at the ceiling, guiding his head back up in a more northerly direction. “…no matter how much you might want to give Mister Blue Eyes up there a show worth paying for.” A soft huff escaped through her nose, and she smiled, holding him in her grasp.  

“Look at you, betting on a sure thing…I’m not that easy, I’ll have you know…” He went out of his way to put on a sufficiently and quite over-the-top offended expression, downright scandalized, and it was all she could do to not break down right there beneath him. “Hell, who am I kidding…yes I am,” he laughed. “But I’ve got something else in mind anyways...”

He ran a hand up over her forehead, brushing away the unruly strands that had flopped down due to the rain and ever-present mist hanging in the moon's atmosphere. His expression fell, and all of a sudden there was a shift, an almost palpable change in the air between them. One moment they were laughing and giggling like idiots, and then in the next, it was over.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful…” he whispered. The backs of a set of knuckles grazed down the side of her scarred cheek, and she shied away from the touch, embarrassed. Maybe a bit ashamed. All of the bruises, the cuts, they were right there under the surface, beneath a thin layer of concealer. The damaged blood vessel in her left eye had nearly healed, but she knew that up close, Nik could still see it. He could see everything. She’d been injured plenty of times before, but this felt different somehow, and for whatever reason, that scared her. “Hey…really.”

A thumb gently nudged at her chin, and when their eyes connected once again, she felt trapped, very much at the mercy of his scrutiny. The blurred cacophony of lights whizzing by outside swam across the shining amber depths above her, shifting from blue to pink to purple and back again, and for a brief moment, she almost thought she could see herself reflected back as well, forever lost amidst the swirling sea of colors.  

There was no hiding from him…there was no need to. Not now, not ever. Not from him.  

But, there was also something in his expression, something in the way he looked at her that left her feeling…almost unsettled. Like there was more he wanted to say but had changed his mind at the last possible moment with the words still neatly wrapped up on his tongue.  

“Coming up on Mezenti…” The driver’s sudden announcement caught them both off-guard, and they both jumped at the sound of the man’s heavily lilted words.

Whatever moment it was that they’d been stuck in together, it was gone now.

The taxi descended rather sharply into the spaceport, probably a little too sharply, and Nik had to hold himself steady in order to avoid being tossed onto the floor. It got him to laugh though, and he cracked a genuine smile, pulling her with him into a sitting position once the cab had settled.

Nox couldn’t get out of there fast enough. As soon as it stopped, she was back on the duracrete, welcoming the steely touch of the cold, wet ground against the pads of her feet. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering against the light breeze that had cropped up as she waited impatiently for Nik to climb out of the cab after her. And of course, that didn’t happen. Some muffled Huttese floated through the air, words she couldn’t be brought to care enough about to listen to, followed by the sharp sound of the two men sharing a laugh over something that was apparently the funniest thing ever. 

That man…if the mood were to catch him right, all he ever needed was to be put in front of a wall and he could find something to talk about. It drove her crazy at the worst of times.  

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she sighed to herself. “Nik, it’s freezing out here! I’m heading inside.” She wasn’t sure if he’d even heard her from within the cab, but even so, she turned on her heels and practically trotted towards the relative warmth of the spaceport’s interior complex. Heads may have turned, wondering at her distinct lack of footwear as well as her overall rather matted and rumpled appearance. In truth, she probably looked like she’d just been mugged.

At any given time, hundreds of ships could be berthed at Mezenti Spaceport. Imperial ships were always given priority, but she passed bank after bank of elevators that lead to hangars holding any variety of unaffiliated traffic. Transit. Commercial. Smugglers. Bounty Hunters. Even the odd pirate. She knew Nik had been to Nar Shaddaa in his dealings many times before they’d met.

He’d caught up with her by the time she’d reached their specific elevator, offering a shrug in amused apology, and always of conscious mind to avoid approaching her unannounced or from behind. That particular mistake had been made once, and only once. It was instinct, and it was the only time he’d ever been zapped well and good with her Force lighting. She’d felt guilty as all bloody hell afterwards, but it had been funny. Sort of. Perhaps not at the time.  

She hit the same button on the same console she’d hit dozens of times before, stepping into an elevator she knew all too well. _They_ knew all too well. A priority hangar for a priority ship – she may have been able to avoid notice in person (sometimes), but  _The Phoenix_  couldn’t. Was this to be his play, then? She knew he was planning something, and just the thought of it made her pulse quicken.

There were so many moments…bright, overly vivid memories of that elevator stopping on each and every floor, his breaths hot on her neck, counting them down one by one in a vicious game of roulette. That kink of his, the risk of being caught. Of whispers and soft laughter, urging her to be quiet, urging her not to be quiet. A graveled voice telling her when to wait…when to come, everything planned right down to the second. She could practically feel his hands on her, bringing her home like none other.

Bloody hell.

Andronikos lounged against the console across from her, just leaning there with a self-satisfied smirk, practically written in stone. He owned the space between them. All of it. Above...below...on all sides. He knew it, she knew it. The air felt heavy and thick, and there was no way he couldn't hear her heart beating. How could he not? It was sure to come flying out of her mouth the way it was pounding in her chest, making the blood rush through her ears like an angry tide.

But of course, that was all in her head. 

She swallowed down a lump that had formed in her throat, concentrating on the shifting scrapes of the elevator gliding along on its vertical track...the distinct, rapping clicks the heels of her shoes made as they tapped against the wall with each idle swing back and forth from Nik's fingers. The weight of his gaze was almost unbearable, even when it wasn't on her. An amber eye flicked briefly to a particularly racy corner of their boxed-in space, and by all the fucking stars, the smirk he wore grew by leaps and bounds, right into one smug bastard of a grin, a grin she wanted to wipe off his face in the worst of ways.  

A thirty-second ride in that elevator was an eternity.

When the door opened into their hangar, Nox wanted nothing more than to run out of there as if the compartment had burst into flames, but she forced herself to stand her ground. After a momentary stare-down, more like virtual strip-down, Nik pushed himself away from the wall with a pleased sort of huff, and offered her his hand, tugging her away with him out into the hangar.

But not five steps later, he pivoted around and rushed her, pitching her up and over his shoulder with a rehearsed grunt as he continued on to the ship, carrying her off like some ill-mannered beast of a man who had just crawled out of the muck. It took her completely by surprise, though not in a bad way, and the sound that came out of her mouth was ridiculous. Quite like a screeching teenager on holiday. Choking laughter. Giggles. The whole nine yards, even with the precision slap he administered to the rounded curve of her backside. It only made things worse (better). The hand held her in place, balancing her center of gravity against him with each step. And, with each step, she had to wonder if this was what he had in mind, or if this was only the beginning...

Either way, it was absolutely unbecoming for a lady of her status to be rucked about like a sack of flour.

Oh, what a travesty...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long delay, guys! I'm trying to balance my time between this and prompts and modding and building character models. Speaking of which...if you'd like to see what Nox and Nik and Kira look like in my head...please feel free to check out my [Flickr page!](https://www.flickr.com/photos/130044876@N04/)
> 
> Please feel free to hit me up on Tumblr! Same username!
> 
> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors.  
> This author invites:
> 
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	28. Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Plus Two Equals Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Pieces"  
> Rob Thomas
> 
> Run away, run away if you can't speak  
> Turn a page on a world that you don't need  
> Wide awake and you're scared that you won't come down now
> 
> Didn't I tell you you were gonna break down  
> Didn't I warn you, didn't I warn you  
> Better take it easy, try to find a way out  
> Better start believing in yourself
> 
> We build it up, we tear it down  
> We leave our pieces on the ground  
> We see no end, we don't know how  
> We are lost and we're falling  
> Hold onto me  
> You're all I have, all I have  
> Hold onto me  
> You're all I have, all I have
> 
> Now and then there's a light in the darkness  
> Feel around till you find where your heart went  
> There's a weight in the air but you can't see why, why
> 
> Didn't I tell you you were gonna break down  
> Didn't I want you, everybody wants you  
> Tell me what you're needing, give into your bleeding  
> Never any feeling for yourself

The _Phoenix_ \- Nox

Ten minutes. She’d left him alone for ten minutes.

“That bloody well figures,” Nox laughed, sharing a private little huff for herself. Was she disappointed at finding the man who had carried her off kicking and screaming, and who, consequently, she wanted to shag in the worst of ways, passed out like a sleeping baby? Perhaps. She’d barely been able to pry herself away from Nik long enough to get into the refresher for a quick run through the sonic. And after all of the rather handsy foreplay leading up to that very moment, it did leave things feeling a tad bit…anti-climactic, so to speak.

What was it they said about best laid plans?

Well, the pirate was out, along with his plans, it seemed. He leaned against the headboard in an almost upright position, or what used to be upright, head lolling slightly off to one side, his chest rising and falling in long, rhythmic breaths. It was the only time his guard ever truly came down. Their home. He hadn’t even made it out of his undershorts.

It was adorable…and it wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last time such a thing happened. She could hardly fault him. The stress of their everyday lives, everything, it all piled and piled until it became overwhelming. Hyperspace for them was a blissful release. An in-between. The one place, neither forward nor back, where there was nothing to be done. Everything else was put on hold. And they had almost two days to Alderaan. Two days of sleep…sex…food…two days of rest.

Food…huh. Her stomach was already forming a protest. Again. She sighed through her nose, more than just a little annoyed, and spared a quick glance over to the bulkhead doorway. It wasn’t like she was needed in the bed now anyways. But…he really was cute, and it was such a temptation. Smiling to herself, her decision made, Nox padded over to the side of the bed, intent on nuzzling a quick kiss to the sleeping pirate’s forehead before donning her own undergarments and making her way to the galley to rummage.

There’d be plenty of time later. Nik wouldn’t sleep for long. He never did. It was a force of habit for the both of them.

Her lips passed over his brow, just barely grazing against the skin, but it was close enough. Close enough to hear the distinct lack of the telltale soft chuffles he would most certainly never admit to on any other day. Or that day.

Faker. Well, two could play at that game.

She finished her kiss, stubbornly refusing to take his version of bait, and turned on her heels, determined to leave him hanging. He could find her in the galley well enough.

“Hmmm, I’m awake…”

“No, you’re not…” she laughed, pausing mid-step as she did her best to stifle the amused chuckle under her breath. A set of callused fingertips danced across the side of her thigh, lazily tip-toeing their way around to the front. What they could reach, at least…what she would let him reach where she stood her ground nearly out of arm’s length.

“Yes I am.”

“No…you’re not…”

“I am…” The fingers scrabbled against her skin, trying in vain to pull her backwards toward the bed.

“Oh, I don’t think you are…” she laughed again, this time letting him hear her rather petty but oh-so-worth-it level of amusement before flashing a snide grin behind her.

“Yes, I – _bloody well_ – am!”

There was all of a millisecond before Nox found herself quite out of breath as a strong forearm wrapped around her midsection, pitching her off her feet and into a waiting embrace. It was, in all honestly, what she'd been expecting, and somehow, she wound up on the bed straddling his hips, not caring in the least that her stomach still had other plans in mind.

Face to face, she could see his smile, a real smile, and her heart melted all over again. Even if his attempt at her Kaasian accent was a sad one. Only he would ever dare. “Don’t you mock me, _old man_ …”

The side of his lip crooked ever so slightly at her words, and then his face disappeared with the nudge of his forehead against her breastbone. He held her there, straddled across his lap, and it seemed time had frozen them uncomfortably in place until a muffled sigh reached her ears from somewhere within her cleavage. Hands cupped around her backside as he reclined back into the pillows, pulling her with him as if his life depended on it. Or her arse. He was squeezing it hard enough.

That was…odd. That slip of the tongue should have resulted in instant retribution, which was why she’d said it in the first place. But instead of acting on it, he just pulled her in even harder. Which. Was. Nice? But her Sith-Sized Paranoia couldn’t help making her feel like something was up, no pun intended, and a little alarm bell started to scratch and pick at the back of her mind, setting her teeth on edge, not to mention all the hairs on the back of her neck as she focused on the dull thuds of his steadily increasing heartbeats.

Perhaps it was all in her head and she was making a mountain out of a mole hill that only wanted to cuddle…if cuddling involved having the last bit of air forced up and out of her lungs. Every base survival instinct told her to be wary, that all was not right, but she would not let those instincts own her. Not now. Not in her own thrice-damned bed.

“Hey there, tiger…” she cooed, pushing her reservations to the bottom of her gut where they belonged, and dipped an index finger to find his chin where it still hid beneath her breasts. A little nudge was all it took – there was no argument in guiding his face back up to the surface. “Any closer and you’ll be inside me.”

Their eyes met, deep amber to green, and then her gaze fell to the one obstruction between them. She wanted to see his face. All of it. If she had nothing to hide from him, then he should have nothing to hide from her.

“You don’t have to wear this for me, you know,” she announced to the air, running the same index finger along the line of the leather strap that held his eyepatch in place. The digit grazed over his temple, behind his ear, to the back of his head…and with a little bit of a tug, pulled the offending item away to reveal an eye that had gone a ghostly shade of white. “You don’t ever have to wear this for my benefit…”

It wasn’t like he kept it from her. It was part of him, and she’d grown used to waking to an eye that couldn’t see over the course of the years that had passed since that day on Voss. But, he never left the ship without covering it…he almost never left their bedroom without covering it…and he would never entertain the idea of a prosthesis. He wouldn’t even talk about it.

“You didn’t have to wear all that coverup for me either,” Nik chuckled up at her, glossing over her observation without a hitch and making no attempt to hide it.

“Perhaps I just didn’t want to deal with you shooting the next bloody numpty who assumes I’m your punching bag.”

“But it’s so much fun…” He laughed again, but it was only a half-hearted grumble that barely escaped his throat. His head thumped lightly against the headboard as he gazed up at her, his brows crooked in a way that spoke volumes, only the words they said brought the buzzing paranoia back ten-fold, making it even more difficult to ignore, so much so that it might as well have been screaming at her from the corner of the room…unbidden and most unwelcome.

Something was coming, she could feel it in her bones. The only question was what. Nik? Something else? Someone else? Couldn’t they just…be? For five minutes?

_Oh, fuck it._

All caution thrown to the wind, Nox lunged forward, their lips colliding in earnest as she closed the distance between them. It was desperate, awkward even. (Where was her subtlety now?) But she needed this. She needed him. While they still had the chance…before…just…before. Two A-Wings on an intercept – those had been Nik’s words, dear to her heart, and his laughter rang out between her ears clear as the day he’d first said them as the leather strap slipped from her fingers to the floor, forgotten. As if anything else could possibly matter…it all went into the present. Into stomping out that little voice and an internal dialogue she wanted no part of.  

A different kind of instinct began to take over, and Nox moaned into his mouth, shifting her position above him to gain more leverage. Fingertips pawed at either side of the pirate’s face, greedy…insistent…pulling him up off the pillows to her with a hunger that could only be matched by a desert long awaiting the rains that would never come.

“Any closer and you’ll be inside me, huh? Tiger…?” The graveled baritone of his words had no place to go but out and to the side, and they tumbled rather ridiculously through the corner of his mouth as he rushed to match her movements play by play. Nik was rather proud of himself for that one, no doubt, but she could do little more than pant out another impatient little mewl in response, falling away as she was to their embrace.

His breath was hot against her cheek, each harried puff mingling together with her own. Fingers dug into her backside, earning him one more plaintive outburst, before setting off on a different journey, though one no less driven. They inched their way northward, sometimes gentle and soft, where she could register the rough, callused pads of each digit, and at other times, hard and grasping. They worked their way through territory claimed time and again, from the small dimples at either side of her spine, all the way to the base of her shoulders, molding her to him with a determined strength that left very little to the imagination.

All that (and more) should have done much to soothe her ever-rising level of hesitation. It should have let her carry on, wrapped up in the moment, dwelling on nothing beyond the sheer physicality of his skin against hers, his taste on her lips, on her tongue, every pass colored by the smooth earthy snap of a shot of whiskey.

It would have been so easy. Just give in. Ignore that little voice…

But then the pirate pulled back, his moistened lips grazing up the side of her cheek, finally sliding to a halt at the base of an earlobe. It was only a matter of a few flushed heartbeats, he could simply have been catching his breath. Yet in the frame of those pointed thuds of the heart, from one to the next, Nox had to wonder if he was gearing up to say something, and her gut could only scream one thing from within the deafening silence.

 _Run. This isn’t right. Run._  

This was Nik. Her center. Her gravity. What could he possibly have to say that could have her so on edge? Was this what was coming? Or was there more? And did she even want to know?

Thud. Thud. Two more heartbeats lost between them, slowed to a near-halt. And yet she waited, wanting nothing more than to cry out if only to make the silence stop. Breath. Hands at her back. Lips, ever elusive, giving no hint as to the secrets they withheld. It was awkward. It was frustrating. And it gnawed away at her wits and her patience, throwing her into a tailspin of doubt.

_What -could- he have to say?_

Had her assertions about the status of their relationship been incorrect? Had she been so wrong as to assume they were back on the path to…wherever it was they were going? Together? Surely, it would be a long road to fully earning his trust again, but the last few weeks…she had thought it was a start. So much had been said…so much had already changed…

Another breath. Another heartbeat, and then a muffled swear made somewhere along the lines of his rather colorful and sometimes unintelligible pirate speak slingshot her back to the present, catching her off-guard. Perhaps she wasn’t alone in her frustrations after all, though whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.

“Hey…” Nox pulled back, if only by a little, but her retreat was halted by a seemingly immovable wall. “Where are you?”

As the words fell away, echoed against the headboard inches from her nose, the pirate almost appeared as though he’d been frozen in place, a cornered prey animal deciding whether to fight or to run. Only for the briefest of moments. But then a puff of breath skittered over the side of her neck, warm, soothing, the touch of a smile lit across her skin, a baritone chuckle, nearly a growl, vibrating against her ear.

“Thought it would be pretty obvious by now…” he answered, the growl resonating even lower, right through to her spine. “…unless you wanted me to -spell- it out for you.” Snaking his arms up around the tops of her shoulder blades, he push-pulled her body down…slow, hard, all at the same time, meeting her with his hips and a firmness only just held back by a thin veil of fabric. “Mmm, could be fun…” He laughed again, teeth nipping at her lobe, more than playful, the fingers of one hand moving from their respective shoulder to fist at the shortened spikes of her hair…

So easy…

Bloody hell! He was dodging. And he knew exactly what to do. Bastard.

“N-Nik…” Reaching for the fingers latched into her hair, she pulled back again, this time with more force, and this time he let her retreat enough to face him eye to eye. “You’ve been coming and going ever since the club.”

“What was that about coming?” he blinked, seemingly unfazed by the diversion of his hand, now threaded through her own fingers.

“I’m being serious here.”

He tried pulling her close again, but she dodged and settled back onto the tops of his thighs, her heels digging into her backside just as sure as they would have dug into a line in the sand. It was another stare down, one she would not give up on easily, and the moments ticked by as she watched a wide range of emotions rise and fall across his features before he finally relented. 

“Ugh…” Making his own retreat, his shoulders thudded against the headboard, probably a little harder than was necessary. “Should’ve known I couldn’t keep something like this from the likes of you…” He half-mumbled the words, and his gaze dropped to their joined hands, to her lap, to the walls…anywhere but where it needed to be.

Oh. Just as sure as the wind falling away from the sails of an ancient sea-faring ship, her confidence had been lost, broken into a thousand pieces and scattered upon the tide. Every worst possible conclusion began running rampant through her mind, unchecked, like a wild stampede. He had only been stalling…all along. Every uttered syllable cut like a knife, and a lump formed in her throat, warning her against what was sure to fall from his lips next.

_I can’t forgive you._

_I never really loved you._

_I’m leaving._

“I…I see.” Those were the only words she could summon. But she had to be strong – he couldn’t see her weakness, not anymore. He wouldn’t. She began sidling her body up and off his lap, retreating further in upon herself, his words echoing in her ears, so much so that she completely forgot to let go of his hand.

“What?” His gaze shot back up, brows quirked in all sorts of confusion. “OH!” he shouted, loud enough to get her attention, and grabbed at her fingers, refusing to let them go. “Baby, no…get your ass back here!” At the sound of his chuffed-up laughter, her heart started to climb down out of her throat, but she was still hesitant, and she followed the line of their joined hands, up his bared forearm and shoulder, all the way to his face. And this time, he wasn’t looking away. “Whatever you’re thinking…you’re wrong,” he sighed. “I told you, I’m in this.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Oh, c’mon…Sithy-Woo-Woo.” He smiled, lightly tapping an index finger against her temple for impact. “I just came to a bit of a decision back there…back at the club…and no sooner did I make it than you were on it like a kath hound on a kill.”

“I didn’t need the Force to see that.”

“Well…I uh…heh,” he shrugged, ending any further argument with a slight twitch of the shoulder. Smooth lips passed over the backs of her knuckles, and she leaned into his touch, letting the contact soothe her ire, her frustrations…her fears. Some of them, at least. Leave it to Nik to point out that, as usual, she’d put one with two and gotten fourteen.

Full circle, from hot to cold and back to hot again in the blink of an eye, that was the way of things when emotions were left unchecked, burning as brightly as the cosmos. Another not-first. And not-last. Sometimes even she couldn't keep up. But Nik, he was different. How he managed was beyond her, and all she could do was be thankful beyond words for his patience (even if she would never admit it).  

“So…this decision…” Playful once again, Nox leaned in further, narrowing her focus down to the hollow of his throat, right at the small patch of skin that stretched just so where shoulder and neck joined. “Am I going to have to beat it out of you?”

“Hehe, now -that- does sound like fun…” He still hadn’t let go of her hand, and his thumb brushed roughly back and forth over the knuckle of her index finger as he soaked up her ministrations with a pleased grumble resonating through his chest. “Maybe you will…maybe not.” The grumble shifted into an amused half-sigh, and the other hand cast down the side of her neck to her shoulder, finally joining the first to squeeze at her third and fourth knuckles. “Mmm, I was gonna wait…do this right…but…I think this -is- right for me…for us.”

Through the side of his windpipe, her lips registered a heavy intake of breath, but before he could open his mouth, a chime echoed through the bulkhead walls from the ship’s main holo terminal, almost immediately followed by an answering chime on her own communicator, left to charge on the bedside table only feet away.

“Just ignore it,” she half-whined into his flesh, pulling his attention back to her with the force of a free digit. “Do what right?”

“You know if we ignore it, it’ll just ring again.” And, as if on cue, it did.

“Let Talos get it…”

“That’s your frequency, babe. And who else besides me has it?” Did he sound…relieved? Since when was Andronikos Revel ever happy about being interrupted in the middle of anything? “If you don’t answer it, I will…and I’ll tell Marr exactly where he can stick that spikey-ass armor…and then we’ll have an entirely different conversation on our hands.”

“Fine…,” she sighed, more than a little frustrated, and pushed herself up and away from the pirate’s shoulder. “You mean before he chokes the life out of you.”

“He wouldn’t…” Still tied to the pirate by way of one hand, she stretched her body across the bed far enough so that she could reach the table and her communicator.

“I think you’re overstating his paterna-OUCH!” A sharp crack rang throughout the room as the flat of Nik’s hand came down across her very exposed backside, right against the meaty bottom, likely leaving a nice, pink pirate-shaped hand print. It was a playful slap, or at least what they considered to be playful, and it set her insides on fire.

“I’m not…”

“Uh-huh.” Communicator in hand and plus one sore arse cheek, she returned to her previous upright position, settling back down onto the tops of his thighs. Whoever it was, they were bloody well going to know their call was an interruption, and any sense of modesty she’d carried in her youth had been lost along with her innocence many, many years ago. “Always so certain, my darling…,” she giggled as she ran a knuckle over his chin, sharing in a knowing smile meant for them alone before engaging the holo. “Speak…”

_“My lord, it is good to see you.”_

“Lana?” Nox found it moderately difficult to hide her surprise as the fuzzed and shifting image of the newly-made Minister of Sith Intelligence materialized between them. Indeed, she had been expecting Marr, but it wasn’t a surprise that the other Sith had managed to gain her holo frequency.

_“Please forgive the intrusion...”_

“Honestly, Lana…someone had better be dead.” The image remained silent for a time, well past a comfortable pause, and Nox began to wonder if she’d gone and put her foot in her mouth. Her heart began to beat faster in anticipation, countered only by the reassuring squeeze of Nik’s hand still threaded protectively over hers, safely out of sight. “Do you read...?”

_“To put it succinctly, my lord, people -are- dying.”_

Nox felt her brows begin to climb towards the ceiling as she watched the small, glowing figure begin to type away at an invisible terminal. “Where are you?”

_“Ziost. I can’t easily describe it. Something is here. A presence. Our best guess is that it -is- Vitiate, but his purpose is still unclear.”_

“What, exactly, is happening?”

 _“It’s like Yavin Four.”_ An image popped up in the figure’s place, security camera footage. Rioting. Looting. Brawling. People running in fear, hoping to find refuge. _“I believe he’s trying to finish here what he started there. People are killing each other in the streets. Brothers. Sisters. Troopers. Even children. It started out slow, but more and more succumb every day. I can feel it scratching away at my own willpower, but so far, I’ve been able to shield myself and my team. It feels…dirty, like taking a bath in water laced with bloody grease…”_

“Have you contacted Marr?”

_“Yes, his fleet is still on Makeb, being outfitted with Isotope-5 with your fleet guarding our interests. Neither are going anywhere, I'm afraid. We can’t afford to risk it.”_

“What about evacuation?” Andronikos shifted beneath her, his face an unreadable mask as he added his own thoughts.

_“We’ve already started, but there are only so many shuttles. The orbiting station appears to be unaffected, at least for now.”_

“I’m not sure what you’re asking me to do here, Lana,” Nox sighed. “If it -is- Vitiate, we can’t stop him. The best we can do is get our people out of his way.” She wasn’t about to go running off on a wild gorak chase over nothing. Not to mention they were three days away from Ziost, which might as well have been thirty on the grand scheme of things.  

 _“It’s not that simple.”_ The blue-lined figure returned, still tapping away at a console, and despite the holo’s size, it was easy to see that the Sith was exhausted and very much in need of some sleep.  

“Meaning?”

 _“There are Jedi here.”_ They both heard an audible sigh, and the image stopped typing to regard them both, almost hesitant, if so much emotion could be read from such a small form. _“And…you should know, my lord…he…Theron…is here.”_

“What?!?” Theron. As soon as the name registered, bouncing around in her head like a loosened stone, Nox felt her heart jump right back up into her throat…along with a stabbing pain in her hand she couldn’t be bothered to make much notice of. Excitement. Fear. Hope. Elation. Every emotion imaginable ran through her, all clamoring for purchase. It was deafening. A crowd with no voice. “Where is he?”

_“From what we’ve been able to piece together, his shuttle crashed somewhere outside New Adasta.”_

Despair. Every thud of the heart became an audible thrum between her ears as Nox watched more holo footage pop up, this time what appeared to be from a satellite. A tiny, red-jacketed form stumbled out of a still-smoking ship, nearly staggering right into three hooded figures. There was a brief armed stand-off, and then the jacketed figure, Theron, she assumed, leveled his blasters and fired…taking each of the hooded forms down one right after the other. He was hurt. Clutching at a shoulder and barely able to walk.

Why was Lana showing her this? Coercion? Because she knew Nox would drop everything and come running? Was that all it would take to control her? She had made her choice on the Yavin moon – stay out of Theron’s life for his own good. But there he was, on an Imperial capitol world, trudging through the ice and snow…hurt. And the other Sith knew it. Knew of her weakness.

“Vitiate?” It was all she could manage…to croak out a single name. The real question couldn’t even be put to words.

_“We don’t know – he took one of the speeders, and we lost him after that.”_

Was this it, then? What was coming? One giant nightmare she couldn’t possibly avoid? What was he even doing there? The world fell away around her, and an image flashed to the forefront of her mind, one she would never be able to forget. A red jacket, smeared with blood, lay cast aside in the burning streets. Blue eyes, icy…dead, shared by a thousand nameless faces, shared by one that mattered. Cold, greasy laughter clawed at her resolve as a knife flashed in the darkness, held against a stubble-covered throat, ready to end it all on a word. Her word. She was on her knees, begging, but she still couldn’t make it stop.   

“I’m three days away!” she yelled, shaking the haunting vision free to see another set of eyes, though ones no less cold. “You have to give me something more than this.”

Desperate. Terrified. And not even bothering to hide it. Weak. She threw up her arms in frustration, making the other Sith tilt to the side before her, nearly tumbling out of her fingers, and from somewhere beyond her own little bubble of dread, Nox was able to register additional movement, a less-than-gentle shove as she was pushed off the pirate’s lap, leaving her alone on the bed.

“I can get you there in half that time.” The words were muffled, angry…chewed up and spit out at the wall facing away from her. Nik. He hadn’t even bothered to turn in her direction as he sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders shot with tension, near ready to snap.

Bloody hell, she was an idiot. He’d been there the whole time and she’d let him go when she should have drawn upon his offered strength. Her anchor. Her gravity. There had to be a way to salvage…something…. before everything blew up in her face. Again. How could she have put herself back here? Right back into that cubby hole of a room on Makeb, drugged and half out of her wits. All because of her own weakness for a man she was never supposed to see again.

“Did you get that, Lana?” She took a deep breath, silently refusing to tear her eyes from the expanse of scar-riddled skin at her side.

_“Yes…I will do my best to shield as many as possible until you arrive. Please contact me when you are in orbit.”_

“For now, concentrate on getting people out of the city…” The pirate’s head cocked slightly in her direction, listening, waiting. “…and please, try to find him…”

_“Until next time. May the Force ever ser-“_

Heaving a sigh, she tossed the communicator, disgusted, and watched it bounce off the corner of the bed and onto the floor with a rather poignant thwap as it clattered against the cold metal. Part of her might have even hoped it had broken right there into an untold number of fragmented pieces. Or was that her heart? Or confidence? Or maybe just her entire life? Wonderful. Self-pity. Well, at least this time she could see it. That was a start.  

Giving in was simply not an option. She had to prioritize. Compartmentalize. Or whatever the bloody hell the word was. Focus. Focus on what was right there in front of her. Something she could reach out and touch.

“Nik…,” she whispered, shimmying her body around to face him with knees planted on either side of his hips. Fingers curled through the air, tentative, hesitant, almost afraid to move too fast or too slowly as they connected with their target. They ran up the length of his spine, marching across bone and muscle, waiting with none too little desperation for him to respond. If he would respond. He could have stayed silent and let them take the full three days, but he hadn't. That was something. But, why wouldn't he look at her? 

“You’re damn lucky I love you,” he growled, his words vibrating through to her fingertips. They echoed off the bulkhead with a finality, leaving them to die between them as he shook off her touch and got to his feet. 

“What were you going to say? Before?” Before…everything.

“It doesn’t matter.” He walked over to their shared dresser, back shot rigid as if he was forcing himself to maintain a single set pace, and began harassing the drawers, one after the other, rummaging around through all of them.

“Andronikos…”

“I said it doesn’t matter anymore!” Slamming the last drawer shut with enough force to shift the entire piece of furniture, he turned on his heels, making his way to the doorway with a shirt hanging loosely from a clenched fist. “Get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”  

There was no stopping him. Nox watched him disappear around the corner, heard him yell something along the lines of a loud and very rude version of Not-Now-Khem in the middle of the commons area, and finally, she heard the unmistakable, echoing thud of a fist connecting with a bulkhead. Her first instinct was to go to him, make sure he hadn’t broken something, but it would have to wait. He had a job to do and needed to be alone and she wasn’t going to chase him down and hover. That was the last thing they both needed.

They had over a day to talk…or to kill each other. Or both. That in-between. The one place, neither forward nor back, where there was nothing to be done. And as the ship dropped out of hyperspace, awaiting an incoming course correction, only one thing remained clear. That she would forever curse the day she met a spy by the name of Theron Shan.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, leave it to Lelu to start freaking out, fearing the worst, when Nik is practically shitting himself trying to get up the courage to propose to her. And yeah...damn you, Theron. 
> 
> It's going to start getting messy from here on out for a while, guys. The next chapter is an extension of this one that I needed to cut because it had gotten too long, but after that we're on Ziost. So fair warning. It's going to be dark.
> 
> And I'm so so so sorry for the long break! I got sidetracked with fanart, and I really need to strike a balance between the two. But if you're interested, please feel free to check out my Tumblr or Flickr pages!
> 
> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors.  
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